


Snowed In

by marystuarttt



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Divorce, F/F, Frary Babies, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marystuarttt/pseuds/marystuarttt
Summary: The last thing Mary wanted over Christmas was to be snowed in with her ex-husband...........but that's what she got.
Relationships: François II de France/Mary I of Scotland | Mary Queen of Scots, Mary Queen of Scots/Francis de Valois (Reign)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by another fic I read, I have no idea what it was called and I searched for it and couldn't find it so if I do I'll give the author credit.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you like it!!

A few inches of snow, and you would have thought the entire state of Virginia lost its mind.  
I watched it fall in thick puffy balls, appearing far less delicate the more it accumulated on the ground. The mornings grass had completely disappeared and the sky looked brighter from its reflection, though it was well past sunset.  
I shut the blinds with a sigh and nearly tripped over Anne’s kitten as it followed close by my feet wherever I went. The muted television showed the weather man bundled under several layers of warmth, teeth chattering as he reported the storm passing through. Headline broadcasting that it would be a white Christmas this year.  
In the corner sat a plain, undecorated pine tree and next to it, a box which overflowed with years worth of accumulated ornaments just waiting to be put up.  
Six days before Christmas, and the house was void of any holiday cheer. It was the longest we’d gone without decorating, but with the kids on their way home, I made sure to pull everything out of storage and have it ready to make it festive tomorrow.  
I made my way into the kitchen and started to package up the cookies I’d made earlier and had been sitting on top of the stove cooling for over an hour now. The kids were supposed to be here before they came out of the oven. It was too late now, they would have to keep until tomorrow, too.  
I devoured one in two bites before picking up my cell phone and hitting speed dial number five. Almost immediately, it goes to voicemail.  
You've reached Francis Valois. I'm unable to get to the pho-  
I hung up with a groan of annoyance then rinse and repeat twice more before running a frustrated hand through my hair. Moments later, the phone buzzes with his name flashing on the screen.  
"Hello?” The irritation was palpable in my tone. “Why didn’t you answer the phone when I called?”  
He let out one of his subconscious snorts from the back of his throat, full of disgust. It drove me crazy and he damn well knew it.  
"Driving," he replied shortly. "What's up?"  
"Where are you?"  
"Driving."  
"You have the kids?"  
"...Oh, shit. I knew I left something at home." Faintly in the background, I heard either James or Henry--it was too hard to tell them apart over the phone--eagerly point out that he used a bad word, followed quickly by an apology from Francis.  
"I have the kids, Mary.” My name sounded so formal on his lips. "If you're just calling for an ETA, I need to get off the phone. The roads aren’t good."  
"So I heard."  
I bit my lip, glancing back at the television which reported record snowfall for the year. The kids' school flashed canceled for tomorrow at the bottom of the screen, along with the other cancellations.  
"Well, please be careful."  
He snorted again and I rolled my eyes, standing up from the couch and nearly tripping over the damn kitten. It mewls in response, flying behind the couch.  
"Don’t be sarcastic. You have my kids," I reiterated, sharply. "I'd rather they weren't dead."  
"If you'd rather that, you would’ve let me bring them in a couple of days when all this was cleared up. As it is, I've debated turnin' around."  
“You'll manage," I said tersely, realizing just how selfish I sounded...  
But this was how it was between Francis and I. All part of the games that we played.  
Henry and James were too young when we split to remember us being together, but Anne knew.  
Our smart girl remembered everything.  
"Goodbye, Mary." I could practically hear the condescending smirk in his tone. It made my blood boil and cheeks flush. "See you in thirty."

~~~  
" Mommy?"  
It took everything in me to lift my head up from the table. I blinked, refocusing my tired eyes on Anne whose face, fingers and hair were covered in paint.  
I smiled weakly and stretched out my sore back.  
Anne fiddled with the sleeves of her art smock, pushing them up past her elbows. I told her it was too hot to wear today and that paint in her tank top was fine, but she'd insisted.  
Her daddy made it for her to wear when she painted. The white fabric decorated with different colored handprints, small ones tucked inside of larger ones. His and hers. I remembered the day they made it well.  
" Do you like my painting?"  
Three flowers. One tiny purple one, a slightly larger green one, and the largest, orange. Our favorite colors.  
" It's us!" she giggled, brushing away loose hair that hung in her eyes, effectively wiping more paint on her nose.  
" It's beautiful," I praised, reaching across the table to open a window.  
Summer pregnancies should be outlawed.  
I was round and tired and hot and dammit, so grumpy.  
I just needed to sleep.  
I glanced back at Anne, her tongue sticking out as she busily squirts yellow onto her easel.  
"What about the babies?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice cheerful though I winced at the mention of babies. Plural. Multiple…  
It had been four months since we found out we were having twins.  
Twins.  
Francis and I with twins.  
Twenty-one-year-old Francis and twenty-year-old me with a four year old... and twins.  
Couldn’t even legally drink and I would have three babies under the age of five.  
I chugged a glass of water and breathed through my mouth slowly. I tried more than anything to ignore the stress and anxiety that welled in my gut when I thought too hard about how much would change in the next two months.  
When it got real bad, and there's nothing there to help anchor me to the world but a countertop, I remembered his face when he learned the news; the way his eyebrows lifted in amazement, and how he spun me around and laughed when I told him I was going to puke on him...  
The way he bought champagne to celebrate only to realize - oh right - and returned from the store again with sparkling apple juice.  
I smiled, rubbing my tummy absently as Anne looked me over with furrowed eyebrows.  
"I don't know their favorite colors," she argued, going back to stenciling out her sun.  
" What do you think their favorite colors will be?"  
" Pink," she says without missing a beat.  
" Both of them?"  
She nodded.  
" Because they're twins and they'll be just the same, but they can't like purple because that's my favorite color and I'm the big sister."  
" Seems reasonable."  
She nodded.  
" And we can get the girls tutus," she continued, so long after she'd grown quiet that it took me a second to realize who 'the girls' are.  
Especially since we were having boys.  
The door swung open and Francis struggled to get through, catching his suitcase between the screen and the door frame. He yanked it free before tossing it into the hallway and locking eyes with me from across the room.  
A smile crept to his face as his arms opened wide.  
"Honey, I'm home!"  
" Ew, stop." I said, unable to keep from laughing. I  
In the same moment Anne leapt up from her chair and ran across the room.  
"Papa!"  
Her picture and sticky hands and talk of tutu's was completely forgotten as he picked her up and planted a fat kiss on her cheek. He didn’t seem to notice or care when she smeared yellow paint all over his work shirt.  
Francis met me where I stood, holding Anne in one hand and pushing my sweaty hair back from my forehead with the other. He placed a kiss to the top of my scalp and I caught his neck, pulling him down again until our lips touched.  
He allowed the kiss to linger a moment, inhaling against me before our girl began to squirm in his arms, eager to get down and show off her newest art.  
" I missed you.” He confessed.  
" I'm mad at you."  
His eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why?"  
" I can't remember," I whispered, rolling my eyes at the mischievous glint in his."I just know I am."  
His mouth opened but whatever reply was forming there cut off with Anne’s eager begging of him to come look at her picture. He leaned against her chair, fawning over the flowers and commending her skill.  
He glanced up at me through long, pale eyelashes and winked. So many promises in that quick exchange.  
Yeah, we were going to be okay. He might have been absent and I may have had my own issues, but we’d worked it out before. We'd raised a girl in worse circumstances.  
We would be just fine. 

~~~  
It was late when headlights poured through the sheer curtains of the dark living room, casting shadows along the wall.  
The room went pitch black again and then there was the sound of doors opening and closing, and hushed voices. Faintly, small footsteps made their way up the walkway.  
Anne was standing on the porch when I arrived, tugging a suitcase half her size up the porch step and grinning at me, toothless.  
"Hi, Mom," she greeted, eyes widening as she brushed past me to inspect all of the holiday decorations I’d started to put up before falling asleep. " Wow, it looks like Christmas! The boys will be so excited!"  
"Excuse me? Don’t I get a hug?" I arched an eyebrow and she smiled sheepishly, falling into my waiting arms with a squeeze of her own.  
She smelled like Francis. He must've let her use his shampoo because when I lean down to kiss the top of her head, my stomach knotted with the flood of familiarity. I pulled back, only then noticing the two neat braids over each of her shoulders.  
"Okay, bed time," I urged, giving her butt a soft pat.  
"Tomorrow is a snow day," she told rather than asked. "I heard it on the radio, that's right, isn't it?"  
"Yup, no school tomorrow."  
"Not until after Christmas, right?"  
"Hmm, no. Still have to go Monday," - though I was sure it would be canceled - "Then you're off until next year."  
She giggled, looking too much like me when she rolled her eyes. They flickered to the front door and her lips fell into a flat line as she glanced up at me curiously.  
Francis tapped the screen with his foot, one boy in each arm sound asleep with heads of floppy curls falling into their eyes. I let him in, but extended my arm out to take the boys without a word.  
Francis ignored the gesture, heading for their room without invitation.  
"I've got it."  
I grit my teeth, but held my tongue as I caught Anne fiddling nervously with one of her braids as she watched the exchange.  
"Be my guest."  
He’d always had a heavy gait. Couldn't sneak up on a damn elephant if he tried. I hear the proof with each creak or groan of the old hardwood floors as he moved around over the top of us.  
"Did you have fun?" I asked Anne, trying my hardest to keep the stress out of my smile.  
"Yes."  
"Did you miss me?"  
Her lips pulled up in a lopsided smile, "Yes."  
"Well, I sure did miss you. I'm happy you're home." I pulled her back into my arms for another hug. "Four days is a long time to go without my Anne girl."  
"I missed you too, Mom," she smiled, squealing when I pinch her sides and she failed to squirm free from my grasp.  
The little gray fur ball gave an exaggerated yawn and mewled beneath Anne's feet, rubbing up against her slender legs for attention. Anne scooped her up, planting a kiss on her fuzzy head before the thing wiggled free.  
"And I missed Kitty, too."  
"You know, eventually you'll have to name it."  
" Her."  
"Right. Her," I correct. I squirted her with the spray bottle conveniently resting on the counter as she uses my wall for a scratch post. She hissed, a pathetic noise from her small body and pranced away after Anne.  
Heavy feet trample down the stairs just as the cat ran up and Francis tripped on the last step with a grunted, doing a double-take up at it before eyeing me and Anne with suspicion.  
"...You got a cat?"  
"Anne got a cat."  
He laughed, short and taunting while muttering something under his breath as he fished a key ring from his pocket. He zipped up the jacket he never actually took off and shifted in shoes that are still double-knotted.  
It was an odd thing to watch the man you'd made so many memories with, in a house you'd grown together in, act as though he were a stranger inside.  
But, maybe he was now.  
It wasn't the same Francis that spun me around the yard when we first closed the sale on our house. Not the same one that pushed me up against the counter with his hips before any furniture had even been moved in.  
I shook the memory away as he called Anne over to say goodbye.  
I watched him brush a thumb over her cheek and whisper something that wasn’t meant for me to hear before pointing at his cheek. She gave him a peck and he gifted her a raspberry in return, his own laughter blending with hers until his eyes flickered up to mine.  
Eyes that were a deep shade of blue and would always make my knees wobble.  
I averted my gaze before I could give him the chance.  
He straightened up and gave Anne one more pat before clearing his throat.  
"Bye," he spoke sharply in my direction, turning on his heels before I could respond.  
He winked down at Anne, promising to call before Christmas and then he was out the door.  
A thick gust of wind burst through when he pressed it open. It was strong enough to knock the heavy oak door back into the wall with a startling noise. The thick curls on Francis's head whipped to the side and he hunched his shoulders to rid some of the cold.  
Beyond the thin porch light, the snow showed no sign of letting up.  
I noted Anne's forlorn expression, a mixture of sadness and worry and thought about how upset the boys were the last time they slept through Francis's departure.  
Francis had to high-step in order to trudge through the accumulative snow along the path and the thought of him driving through the night--tired and unfocused--with drivers who crashed with a simple sprinkle of snow…  
Dammit, Mary let him go, my mind urged. I silently chastised my hands as they gripped the handle, debating whether or not to go after him.  
Let. Him. Go.  
I glanced at Anne again, whose tired and drooping eyes watched her father fervently. My fist pounded into the wall with frustration.  
I sighed leaning out the door while trying to keep my feet from stepping in the slushy mixture on the front step.  
"Francis!"  
His back stiffened as he glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together. His eyes were squinted as he struggled to make eye contact with me through the blizzard.  
"Just... you can't drive in this weather. It's crazy! And it's too late."  
"What else can I do, Mary?" he asked, opening his arms out in suggestion.  
I bit the inside of my cheek. Anne looked up at me with wide and expectant eyes.  
"I mean, you could just stay here for the night. At least in the morning it'll be light out and maybe this will have passed.”  
Francis stared at me with suspicious eyes. Then blinked.  
“Jesus, can you just come inside? It's freezing."  
He took a step closer, burrowing his hands into his pockets. He stomped off the excess snow from his shoes before accepting the invitation back inside.  
"Why do you care, anyway?" His tone reeked of accusation. I watched his jaw clench as he waited for an explanation.  
My arms crossed over my middle instinctively, protectively, and I stood up straighter.  
"You're my children's father," I reminded him, slowly, as if talking to someone much younger. Then, taking a softer tone, added; "You'd do it for me."  
His silence hung in the air and when I glanced up his expression was hard, unwavering.  
Challenging.  
Fucker.  
"Just shut the door," I snapped. "Anne, it's time for bed."  
I hear him click the lock into place behind him as Anne cast an indistinguishable look between the two, as if she were scared to leave us alone.  
“Goodnight, Anne.” Francis spoke tenderly, easing her tension. She gave us a quick wave before bounding up the stairs to her bedroom.  
I stood a few feet away from Francis and rocked awkwardly on my feet, avoiding eye contact as he untied his shoes and peeled the wet socks from his feet. He kept his jacket on, as if still uncertain, before finally taking a step in towards the living room.  
"I'll grab a few blankets," I mumbled, eager for an excuse to leave the room. He didn’t respond, but when I returned with the quilts from upstairs, I found he'd barely moved an inch.  
He accepted the quilt, looking them over for a moment before pulling them into his chest. I wondered if he remembered how they used to lay at the end of our bed.  
"Can I get anything for you?" I asked, internally groaning at the shaky quality of my voice.  
He snorted with a mixture of amusement and annoyance and tossed the blankets onto the couch.  
"I did live here at one point, you know. I'm sure I'll manage."  
"Fine," I grumbled, twisting on my heels. I flicked off the light without warning as I started for the stairs. "Night."  
"Look, this whole thing is just a little weird, okay?" he sighed in the darkness. I could practically hear him running a hand through his hair.  
"Well, you're welcome to sleep out in your car, then," I retorted, hand gripping the railing like a vice. The stairs groaned even under my feet, though considerably less so than with Francis's.  
It could almost be a figment of my imagination, it's so soft, but I could’ve sworn that I heard the soft and apologetic whisper of Francis's voice in the darkness.  
"Thank you."  
My next step faltered and I gripped the railing tighter.  
And then I pretended not to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry and James-- who’s hardest day of school involved coloring their names and making crafts--woke me up at quarter to seven, buzzing with excitement over their snooooow day!  
I rolled over in bed and groaned, trying to no avail to block out their eager chatter. Already, they were wondering when they'd be allowed to go outside and play and what was for breakfast and why Papa was downstairs still.  
My eyes opened against the pillow as the memory of last night came flooding back.  
Francis had spent the night. Crap.  
I made my way downstairs to find the quilts I'd given him folded neatly over the back of the couch. The curtains were pulled back, letting blindingly white light in as the sun reflected off of the snow.  
He wasn’t in the living room though.  
Or the kitchen.  
It wasn’t like the house was all that big, with secret places to hide.  
Did he seriously leave without even saying goodbye to the kids? The thought filled me with irritation as I stormed over to the window to inspect whether or not his car was still there.  
It was still there. Buried beneath a few fresh inches of snow.  
The street was nothing but a blanket of white. Houses, cars, lampposts and even the main road was completely submerged in snow that continued to stubbornly fall.  
A path had been shoveled from the porch to the driveway, and I felt any anger inside of me diffuse.  
One moment later, the door opened and Francis stepped inside with snow dusted hair and flushed cheeks.  
"Papa!" Henry called, effectively riling James up too as they bounced in front of Francis, explaining their 'snow day' with excitement.  
"No way," he feigned surprise, pushing the flopping curls out of James's eyes. "Sure wish I got a snow day."  
"Are you leaving Papa?" James asked, and Henry frowned, pulling at his shirt until Francis focuses his attention over.  
"Aren’t you gonna make us breakfast?"  
Neither boy seems particularly fazed by the fact that Papa has just woken up in Mama's home... something they shouldn’t have ever remembered seeing before.  
They went about their business as if it were perfectly normal, even attempting to drag Francis into the kitchen.  
Henry knotted his hand through Francis's hair, playing with it languidly while waiting for a reply, but Francis's eyes focused in on mine. They look surprised, as if he'd just noticed me standing there for the first time.  
I shifted uncomfortably, cursing the way he had such an affect on me and I seemed unable to faze him.  
It was too much. His being there in the morning, looking disheveled and a little tired still, with the blanket that used to lay at the end of our bed carrying his scent and the knowledge that he'd spent the night on our--my... my-- couch.  
The couch we'd eaten take-out and cuddled and... done other things... on.  
I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose heavily. His presence was everywhere throughout the house, but at least when he wasn’t around, I could try to pretend otherwise.  
When he stood there staring up at me through blonde eyelashes...well, I didn't really know what to do.  
"Papa has to get going, James," I blurted out, and Francis blinked, surprised, before nodding his agreement.  
"Yeah, you boys know better than anyone now just how long of a drive Papa's got ahead of him,” Francis commented, rubbing the tops of their heads.  
Henry nodded solemnly, but James was already preoccupied with breakfast, making his way to the kitchen in search of food.  
I just hoped he didn't pull a Pop-Tart out in front of Francis.  
"I'll call Anne tonight," he promised, pulling at the laces of his shoes. "I didn't want to wake her, she stayed up the whole drive last night."  
"I'll let her know."  
"Okay," he nodded and then shifted on his feet a minute.  
"Um, thanks," he finally said, eyes not fully meeting mine. I shrugged my shoulders with indifference.  
“No problem.”  
And then he was gone.  
I wrapped my sweater around my middle tighter, staring at the door a second longer than I ought to have before ushering Henry towards the table.  
James waltzed out from the kitchen with a piece of white bread between his lips, munching along the inside to avoid the crust.  
“James, if you’d hold your horses, I’ll make you some actual breakfast. I promise.” I frowned, helping both boys up into their chairs.  
"Can you make French toast?" He asked around a bite, running a finger through the maze of a race track on his placemat--sound-effects and all.  
Henry's ears perked up at the mention and his lips set into a wide grin.  
"What about French toast?" Anne yawned with sleepy eyes and hair sticking out in five directions. She shuffled lazily on her too-long sleep pants and settled down at the table, rubbing her eyes.  
"Good to be back in your own bed, huh?" I teased as James began to bang his fists against the table.  
"French toast! French toast! Mama, Papa made us French toast when we were at his house. It was deeeelicious! That's what I want!"  
I stiffened, glad that the fridge door blocked me from the kids gaze. As it was, I could feel my hand tighten on the handle.  
"Wouldn't taste so good on white bread,” I mumbled. “What about--”  
A blaring horn cut me off, making all three kids jump as their heads whipped to the front of the house. Anne was out of her chair in an instant and at the front window, peering out curiously.  
It was Francis.  
Sitting inside of his car with a thin path carved out around it, already filling in again with the rapidly falling snow. He pounded the steering wheel once more before giving the key a hard twist. We all watched as the ignition sputtered and squealed...but refuses to start.  
"Hey," I called from the front step, dancing from side to side as a gust of cold air brushed past me. "Hey!"  
He looked up, eyes wild and jaw set squarely as he threw the door open and steps out, arms raised in a mixture of defeat and frustration.  
"Car won't start." He let out a misplaced chuckle. "You know, someone has got a real twisted sense of humor."  
"You don't say."  
“Don't worry, I'm gonna call someone to give me a jump."  
"Do you want to wait inside?" I sighed.  
"No," he grumbled too quickly, punching the touch pad of his phone before pressing it to his ear. He paced the length of his car, free hand banging impatiently on the side of his thigh.  
"Yeah, hi. My name is Francis Valois and my car won't start up. I need a jump. I'm at 71-- what? Oh, come on, it's barely snowing!" he shouted, sticking a hand palm up as if to prove there is nothing to catch.  
He was wrong. It was coming down angrily. With a good gust of wind, it would be difficult to even see him in the driveway.  
"Yes, I’m technically in a safe place but-- look, I am not in a position to- God dammit!"  
I watch him toss the phone into his car and pull at the roots of his hair with a troubling amount of force. His face turned red for reasons completely separate from windchill.  
I could feel laughter bubbling up in my chest, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to being extremely uncomfortable or if it was actually a little funny seeing my ex-husband have a temper-tantrum that put our five year olds to shame. All while they watched.  
"Great. Fantastic, Mary! The entire town is on lockdown and they won't send somebody out to even look at the car until Monday!"  
"Don't you 'Mary' me!” I shot back, shutting the screen doors to keep the heat from seeping out. “What, you think I called them and told them not to come give you a jump? Or maybe I control the weather now and brought the storm here just to piss you off!"  
"I should have never listened to you," he bit out, jabbing an accusing finger in my direction. "You should have just let me leave last night like I wanted to!"  
"Francis, I am so sorry that I was concerned for your well-being. But, trust me, it won’t happen again!”  
He let out a deep and strangled groan before turning back towards the car and giving one of the tires a hard kick.  
And even I winced as his body dipped in pain and he let out a frustrated curse, gripping his foot.  
"I suppose that was my fault too."  
"Oh, go to hel-" he looked past me and his words cut off.  
All the anger in his expression melted.  
I turned to look where his gaze was fixated and saw all three of the kids were standing there still, huddled behind the screen door with wide eyes and-- oh God, Henry was crying.  
Anne’s arms were wrapped protectively around her younger brothers. With the cutting silence she ushered them back inside the house, only pausing to cast us a disapproving look over her shoulder.  
I felt myself shrink down to five inches tall and judging by the look on Francis’s face, his feelings weren’t far off. He straightened, took a step forward like he might go after them, but changed his mind mid-stride. His head hung and I watched a cloud of smoky air push past his lips as he let out a heavy sigh.  
"Well, well, well. Look who it is!"  
Across the street, Stephan Narcisse tugged at the waistband of his jeans before falling down into the same chair I was sure he'd sat in for close to two decades now.  
He pulled a cigarette out and flicked the lighter a few times before it stuck. Then he leaned back into his chair, comfortably.  
"Francis Valois. Never thought I'd see you around here shovelin' again, boy."  
"Well get a good look, because you probably never will again," I grumbled, staring only at Francis who still refused to look up.  
Narcisse cackled, smacking his heavy foot against the ground before taking another puff.  
He'd been our neighbor for as long as we'd lived here and was the first person to make our acquaintance. He would never admit it, but I was pretty sure he only said hello to us that day because of little Anne. He smiled at her picking dandelions when he thought we weren't looking.  
" I got one rule around here. Keep your damn kid off my damn lawn."  
But he always pulled out a wicker basket of candy when we passed his house on our nightly walks, offering the "little bean sprout" a piece on account of it being "old and he wanted to get rid of it."  
As much as he pretended to be annoyed by our presence--and us, his--he was one of the first to pay a visit when the twins were born. The nurse had looked at him with utter shock and disgust when he leaned out the window and lit up one of his cigarettes.  
" Sir!"  
He turned to look at her in a mixture of shock and disgust.  
“Yes?”  
“You’re in a hospital. Not to mention a maternity ward. You cannot smoke in here!"  
" The window is open!”  
I still chuckled at the memory.  
"How is that man not dead yet?" Francis grumbled under his breath and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling, even when he glanced up at me with a twinkle in his eye.  
"You're here until Monday?" I asked, fiddling with the ends of my hair.  
“I can get a hotel or something,” he muttered. “Just need a ride.”  
I frowned. Despite everything, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of him sitting in a hotel stranded all weekend. Or having to brave the elements to get him there and back.  
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said lowly, and Francis regarded me with surprise. "But, we have to pull it together until they come fix your car. Or at least make an effort to be civil with one another. For the kids. It's not good for them to see us like that. We're supposed to be the ones protecting them."  
"You're right," he admitted, only possessing the strength to say so because it directly pertained to the kids.  
"It's only a weekend."  
"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess we can manage to pretend we don't hate each other for a few days, huh?"  
My heart stuttered and my breath audibly caught with his words. I had to turn my head away from him in order to get my features back to normalcy.  
Wow, that hurt.  
I hadn't expected it to hurt so much. But even after everything, I never thought he actually hated me.  
I never hated him .  
Only in that moment did I debate it.  
He looked up, completely oblivious to the way he'd just shattered me from the inside out.  
My heart throbbed painfully in my chest and I felt myself on the verge of tears, but I refused to give him that satisfaction of seeing me cry.  
I forced myself to nod quickly before throwing the shovel out in his direction.  
"You need to burn off some energy, clearly," I sniffed. "Make yourself useful."

~~~~~

Anne was curled up in a ball asleep in the hallway when I finally emerged from the twins' bedroom, exhausted and frustrated and relieved that I've finally, finally, managed to get them both to sleep at the same time.  
Even if it's just for an hour, I prayed silently, leaning against the wall and letting my jelly-like arms dangle. Please... just give me an hour.  
Anne snored a little, startling herself awake. She looked up at me, eyes heavy with sleep, and yawned. I kneeled down to brush the misplaced hair away from her eyes before placing a quick kiss on her forehead.  
" Are they asleep?" She whispered and I nodded, helping her up onto her feet and guiding her into her own room.  
" Being a Mama is hard work."  
" You're right about that, baby girl," I chuckled, picking her up with a squeeze and a kiss before lowering her down into her bed and pulling the quilt over her already snuggled-in body. "But you did great today. You're a fantastic big sister."  
She smiled dreamily before cracking one eye open with a serious look.  
" I still think it'd be easier if they were girls."  
I chuckled, blowing a raspberry on her cheek before flicking off the light and whispering goodnights.  
I took the stairs slowly, afraid that one wrong creak would send one--or God help me, both--of the twins into a frenzy and I'd be forced to spend the next couple of hours cradling them back to sleep.  
Teething would be the death of me.  
I fell down onto the couch with a sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. I inhaled and decided to rest my eyes...for just...one...minute…  
The door swung open and with a heavy thud smacked the back wall. I jolted awake, completely dazed and confused as I frantically looked around the room before eyes landed on Francis.  
His heavy feet hit the tiled floor and he flung the door shut with as much force as he’d opened it. Like we didn't have a toddler and two infants.  
I stared at him in complete and utter disbelief before the distant cries of one of our kids echoed through the house.  
" Hey babe," Francis greeted, tossing his keys onto the table as he looked upstairs with a pointed finger. "Nap time over, already?"  
I exploded.  
Red, hot anger coursed through my skin as I realized that it had been less than ten minutes since I got all three kids to sleep. He’d ruined everything in a matter of seconds.  
" I'm sorry, Mary," he said as he loosened his tie and ran a hand over his mop of hair. "I didn't realize I had been so loud."  
" Of course you didn't! You have no idea how you need to act while the kids are asleep because you're always at work. You know, interacting with real people, while I'm here cleaning spit up and changing diapers and applying teething ointment!"  
" That's not fair," he argued. "You know that I would rather be home with you and the kids...I'd give up anything, Mary. But someone has to make money. Someone has to provide and I'm trying, I'm really trying..."  
I sighed, burying my head in my hands. I stared down at my toes, squeezing them into the plush carpet as I counted to ten.  
The couch dipped next to me and a large hand trailed patterns over my back soothingly.  
" I'm sorry," he tried again. When I glanced up through my fingers to see the sincerity in his face, I was able to block out the noise of the two infants upstairs for a second.  
" I know you're trying," I promised, placing my hand in his outstretched one and allowing him to squeeze it.  
" I realize that I'm working a lot right now...I hate it too," he chuckled, humorlessly and shook his head. "But, it won't always be this way. Give it some time. I might be able to even cut back a day or two in the future-"  
" Francis, it's okay," I insisted, leaning in to give him a soft kiss. "I was just... frustrated. They've been crying all day and-"  
" Just sit," he urged, holding his hands out to stop me when I try to stand up. "I've got them. Let me get them.”  
I didn't have it in me to argue. With a nod, I watched him rush up the stairs and I couldn’t help but smile at the urgency in his step and feel guilty for the way I’d snapped at him.  
" Francis," I called and he whirled around midway up the staircase, eyes wide in question.  
" I love you."  
The worried look on his face melted into a smile.  
" I love you too, Mary."

~~~~~

It took nearly two hours for Francis to finish shoveling and come inside, but when he did, our driveway was the only one on the street perfectly black.  
His ears, all the way down to his neck, were rosy red and he sniffled uncontrollably as he peeled back layers of saturated clothing.  
"Sorry," he grumbled, realizing the melting mess he was making. "I'll clean it up."  
"It's fine. Thank you," I motioned out to the driveway and he grunted in reply.  
And that was about as good as it was going to get.  
Civil.  
Nothing more and nothing less. Just like we agreed to.  
But somehow, whatever we were doing now felt colder than the fighting.  
When he peeled his drenched sock away from his skin, he revealed a swollen and very purple toe.  
I gasped in shock, causing his eyebrows to furrow until he took a look for himself.  
"Shit," he replied coolly, moving on to take off the other sock. “Must’ve done it when I kicked the car.”  
"Francis!"  
"What?" James asked, jumping up from his spot on the couch at the commotion. And then all three kids were standing there, huddled around Francis's foot with mixed expressions of disgust, sympathy and excitement.  
"Whoa, cool!"  
"Papa!"  
"Oh God," I shook my head, unable to keep looking as I noted the way his nail hung on by far less skin than it ought to. "No. No. Cover it back up, please."  
"With what? The sock?"  
"I don't know!" I exclaimed, flustered. "God, do you think you broke it?"  
"You know what makes it feel better? You, staring at it like you're about to hurl. Your brother is the only one who inherited the medical gene, huh?"  
It wasn’t the first time he'd made that joke, I was often teased whenever the kids were sick or hurt and I'd send Francis to clean up the vomit, or wipe their noses or clean their cuts, but for whatever reason that day it cut me the wrong way and my eyes narrowed in his direction.  
"Well it doesn't take a doctor to know you should be sitting down," I replied tersely, pointing a finger in the direction of the couch. He didn't object, limping over to the couch a little more dramatically than I remembered him doing when he’d first come in. He fell down between James and Henry who excitedly began to explain their show to him.  
Anne was back at the table, long loose curls draping over her face and her sketch pad laid out in front of her. Her pencil moved quickly but with precision, and I knew that if I could see her face, her tongue would be poking out of the corner of her mouth, just like her Papa's did when he was focused.  
I gave her head a gentle caress and she pulled up for a breath, looking around in confusion before her eyes landed on mine. Before I’d even pulled the freezer door open, she was submerged back in her work.  
I took a few ice cubes and stuck them in a plastic baggy before wrapping it up in a dish cloth and returning to Francis.  
“Here.”  
He raised an eyebrow in challenge but took the compression cloth gratefully. I watched him struggle to place it in an effective position for a moment before lowering down in front of him to help.  
"What was that you were saying?" I tried to tease, but my cheeks were red from the realization that the hand which was not wrapped around the ice pack rested against his bare ankle.  
I chanced a glance up and immediately regretted it as I met his blue eyes, staring back at me intently.  
"Something about not having any medical skills?" I croaked and his hard pressed lips pulled up just slightly.  
"It hardly takes skill to wrap up some ice."  
"Mama," Henry chided, an expectant face telling me I completely forgot about something. "Kiss it!"  
"Hmm?" I asked. My mind was still so clouded that his words didn't make any sense.  
"You kiss boo-boos and it makes them go away," he said, patting my shoulder. "You have to kiss Papa's foot and make him feel better."  
Even the natural tint of color to my skin could not hide the blush that was powerful enough to make sweat break out along my forehead.  
I tried my hardest not to look directly at Francis, but still, from the corner of my eye I watched him swallow heavily, though he remained silent.  
Henry nodded encouragingly, and I wasn’t sure if it was by reflex or if he was actually trying to taunt me, but Francis wiggled his foot in my hand.  
I looked up at him as I bent down, but dropped my gaze to his foot after I saw the twisted expression.  
I tried to match it. Tried to seem as disgusted by the idea as he was--the overall appearance of his foot made it much easier--but when my lips touched him, they lingered a millisecond too long and Francis's neck flushed.  
"Do you feel better now, Papa?" James asked, obliviously pulling on the sleeve of Francis's shirt. His eyes flickered in his son's direction, but returned to me, quickly.  
"Yeah, James," he promised, voice raw. "All better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Thanks for reading!!~
> 
> I haven't really decided where this is going so comment with any ideas!  
> Also I know Narcisse is a little out of character, but I kind like him soooooo yeah...


	3. Chapter 3

~ Starts as a flashback~

" Well, if it ain't the Valois, out for a stroll..." Narcisse announced as we approached his house, fiddling with the same wicker basket of candy he offered to Anne each night that we passed.  
She let go of my hand with joyful glee, skipping up to meet him halfway as he hobbled through the grass. He gave her an awkward pat on the head - a kind gesture, given the source - and followed her down towards us.  
" All you need is a damn puppy and you're the All American Family ..." he snickered, before leaning down to get a good look at the boys, who only cooed and drooled back at him.   
" I want a kitty!" Anne jumped up and down, twisting a lollypop around in her small hands.  
" No puppies," I said warningly towards Narcisse, "And no kitties either."  
Anne was easily distracted, already preoccupied by pulling on Francis's t-shirt in an effort to get his attention. He scooped her up in his arms, pulling off the candy wrapper for her with a kiss.  
" Come on, Ma," Narcisse clucked. "Girl wants a kitten."  
" Well then you buy one and I'll send her over to visit." I smirked as his expression fell. "I'm allergic, anyway."  
Francis and Narcisse exchanged a secret look before the pair burst into hysterics. Anne obliviously joined in on. I narrowed my eyes, smacking Francis's arm as he jokingly wiped a tear away from his eye.  
" Just saying, Mary... I think being allergic involves more than just hating an animal."  
I rolled my eyes, pushing the stroller forward while waving to Narcisse absently. Francis was still chuckling when he and Anne caught up, but he snaked his hand into mine, giving it a little squeeze.  
" Oh look." Francis nodded towards the house up ahead of us. "Someone finally bought that place."  
It had been on the market for months now, with plenty of families stopping by to view but no one interested enough to buy. It was a nice house - one of the newest ones on the street - but the asking price was double what Francis and I paid for ours when we moved here a few years back.  
Most people didn't want to pay high prices for a middle-of-the-road neighborhood, no matter how nice the house itself was.  
" Darn," I teased Francis, nudging him in the side. "That was my dream home."  
His smile was sad when he regarded me, but when I winked he returned my bump.   
" Nah, you don't want that dump. I'll get you somethin' twice as big one day."  
" I like our house," I promised, and truly meant it. When I glanced up, I caught Francis looking at me thoughtfully.  
" Me too."  
A little girl who couldn't be more than Anne's age, spun around in circles on her training bike, honking the bright pink horn and swishing the gold and silver glitter tassels that hung off the handlebars.  
" Ooohhh," Anne hummed in appreciation, her eyes wide and lips pursed around her candy as she wiggled free from Francis's arms. I watched her rush over to the end of their driveway before stopping shyly, twisting her feet a little with hesitation.  
" Hi!" the girl called out, letting go of her bike to wave just long enough to lose control over it. She toppled over onto the pavement a moment later.   
A man came rushing out from the garage, worry shadowing his features as he bent down to help her up and inspected her elbows and knees for damage. He noticed us only after the fact, when the girl continued to stare after Anne, waving.  
" Hello," I offered, and Francis gave a friendly wave.  
" Hey, there." He smiled, placing an arm around the small girl's shoulder and urging her further down the driveway to where we stood. "Nice to finally meet some neighbors! I'm Darnley, this is my daughter, Claire."  
His accent distinctly gave him away as being New England and his hair was slicked back on his head.   
" Where are you from?" Francis asked and Darnley looked down at Claire to answer.  
" You remember?"  
" Boston!”   
" Oh, wow." I said and Claire beamed proudly. “Anne here has only ever lived in Virginia, huh?”   
Anne nodded dutifully, though I wasn’t sure she fully comprehended what she was agreeing with.   
" How old are you, Anne?" Darnley asked, his voice kind. Once it was established that the girls were right in the same age group, he turned back up to us and placed a proud hand over Claire's head. "She'll be starting kindergarten in the fall. Not sure what I'll do while she's there."  
" Oh, hello!"  
A petite woman exited the front door hastily, waving at us excitedly. She came to meet us at the end of the driveway with hasty steps.   
She smacked Darnley playfully on the chest before extending a hand out to me in greeting.   
" You didn't tell me you were out here meeting neighbors!" she chastised. "I'm Kira."  
She was beautiful, with hair that shone with a glossiness I thought only possible in commercials. She wore a turquoise shirt with a plunging neckline that showed off her chest nicely and a pair tight-fitting jeans.  
" Mary," I mumbled, pulling at my plain cotton shirt a little self-consciously. I knew it was ridiculous to be mad at Francis for introducing himself but God, I didn't even want him to look at that woman.  
" Aw, look at this," she cooed at the two boys who sat obliviously in the stroller. She waved Darnley over to look at them, too. "Twins! How old are they?"  
" Almost a year." I smiled, ruffling Henry's hair. "Just starting to get the hang of it."  
Darnley looked up at me and chuckled.  
" And it looks like the girls will be fast friends." She nodded towards the two of them who stood admiring Claire's bike.  
" That's Anne," I introduced.  
" Does Anne have a bike?" Kira asked.  
" Um... no, not yet," I said, messing with the end of my braid. Francis placed a steadying arm around my back. "Guess I hadn't realized she's old enough to start learning."  
That, and we definitely didn't have the extra money to spend on a bicycle.  
" Better get on that, Mom," she scolded teasingly. "It'd be so cute for them to be able to ride together. Hey, you guys should come over one of these nights to swim and have dinner!"  
" That'd be fun," Darnley agreed. "Be good for Claire too. I'm so glad there's someone her age right on the street. We were worried."  
"He was worried," Kira corrected. "Claire is our little social butterfly. I knew she'd be just fine. So for dinner, how do you guys feel about Thai cuisine?"  
Francis and I exchanged a glance and although he was able to maintain a straight face, I saw a twinkle in his eye before he glanced back at her with a smile.  
" Delicious."  
" Great! It'd give the girls a chance to get better acquainted... oh, and the housewives, too." She said with a pat to Darnley's chest that made it painfully evident she was referring to him. I watched as a blush crept to his cheeks and his eyebrows knit together in a wince.  
The realization that she's also referring to me had my jaw clenched and body stiff. Francis noticed, and that reassuring arm was resting on me again, patting my back as if in a warning.  
I wished I had a smart comment to make, about how I wasn't a stay at home "housewife," but actually an environmental scientist with an amazing job that I loved while also being a mother to three kids under five.  
But, I was a housewife. And I tried not to be resentful about it.  
Of course she didn't know any of that. But, if I was able to pick up on her husband's discomfort with just one visit, why couldn't she?  
Darnley stayed quiet through the rest of the exchange but gifted me a small smile when he caught me looking. I returned it quickly, looking down to fuss with the boys just for something to do until we said our goodbyes and continued down our normal route.  
" Can we go play tomorrow Mama?" Anne asks, taking bouncing steps as she turned back to wave at Claire a couple more times.  
" Maybe."  
~~~

Later in the afternoon, when the overcast sky turned grayer and began to sputter out more snow--the kind perfect for packing--we found ourselves out back with three bundled children.  
James and Henry were anxious to go outside and play, too impatient to wait for help before pulling up their boots onto the wrong feet and grabbing hats that weren't theirs. When there could be no more delay, I offered to let Francis sit inside and ice his foot while I took the boys out.  
He seemed surprised at the gesture; his permanently furrowed eyebrows lifting in what almost seemed like appreciation. But because it was me and because it was him and we were not allowed to share one nice moment together, I ruined it by reminding him that it was my house, after all. Of course I'd go play with my own kids in my own house.  
My house. His eyebrows immediately fell back into their deep set.  
He came outside with us anyway. Whether to spite me or just because he truly was weak for these kids, I wasn’t sure, but I watched as he helped the boys build an igloo using the recycling bin, which then became the target of their practice when they began throwing snowballs.  
Anne joined shortly after, her long hair tucked off to the side beneath a bright pink cap and a puffy coat to match. She trudged through the snow with a careful expression, unsure why we were all out here together in the first place, but when her brothers ran up to her eagerly, her lips twisted up in acceptance. They ran circles around her, urging her to try and hit the bullseye on the target that I’d created to rest between two trees.   
It was her idea to start building snowmen--an idea the boys readily agreed to, which led us to where we were now, cluttered around five different snowmen that were beginning to take form.  
Well, two were truly taking form. Mine didn't look too far off from James or Henry’s', which were just mounds a few inches off of the ground. Though they were extremely proud of what they refer to as the "snow kids," mine overall just looked pathetic. Anytime I tried starting over Anne insisted I kept the original and I swear I saw Francis biting back a smirk.  
Of course his would look awesome. The boys pranced around his and Anne's, fawning over their work with enthusiasm. Anne stuck a baby carrot in the center of her snowman's nose, giggling at the silliness of it. Even she had to agree though, that it was a better alternative to doing nothing.   
Francis was actually sculpting the snow, by-passing the carrot altogether and pulling a hand free from his glove to create the arch of a nose. I watched from where I sat on the ground next to my pile of mush, fascinated by his ability to carve out very jolly looking cheeks on either side of the nose.   
His tongue pressed just barely past his lips and his sharp eyes looked clearer than they had since his arrival.  
I didn't realize that I’d been staring for probably too long until his eyes flickered towards me, and he did a double take. Just like that, his guard was immediately back up and his posture stiffened.  
His eyes dropped down to my snowman and he clucked the roof of his mouth with his tongue in disapproval.  
"What happened to your snowman, Mary?"  
My cheeks burned and he actually laughed - laughed - in a way that showed off all of his teeth and made his cheeks pull so high on his face that his eyes looked like slits.  
It was the first time I've heard that laugh in years.  
And it was at my expense.  
"You make me mad," I said, only adding to his amusement.  
"You are the worst at arguing."  
I scoffed and he held a hand up, as if to prove his point.  
"Clearly."  
A huffed breath was the closest thing to a chuckle that I could manage, but it was enough. His eyes settled on mine in a way that held no malice and he gave a slight nod.  
That was all before he realized the moment had gone too far. Quickly, he turned back to his snowman, continuing to perfect it's life-like face. But still, there were times when I could see his eyes dart to mine only to turn away just as fast.  
I lifted myself up from the ground with a grunt and carefully made my way closer until I stood next to him, arms folded, taking in the finishing product of his work.  
He turned to face me, so close that the heat from his body radiated to mine.  
"What?" he snapped, tone self-conscious as he shifted from foot-to-foot under my scrutiny.  
"Nothing." I bit the corner of my lip. "It's just good, is all. But, I guess I should have expected that, huh? You've always been good with your hands."  
The words flew out before I could stop to consider the connotation behind them and immediately he stiffened. A flood of red climbed up his neck and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly in mortification.  
I thought at that moment that I could actually die and be okay with it. Anything, anything to escape whatever horrible moment was about to follow this cutting silence.  
"I'm sorry." It came out a whisper. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant because you were always so good in art a-and with your... baking an-"  
"Well, maybe someday someone will... appreciate my hands," he deadpanned, face still red and eyes shifting anywhere but at me. He turned back to the snowman, leaving me standing there without anything to say until Anne came bounding up to break the tension with talk of hot chocolate.  
“Sure, I'll start boiling milk." I jumped at the opportunity to go inside.  
I didn’t get far. As Francis had put it earlier, someone has a twisted sense of humor, because I hadn’t made it two steps towards the house when Anne, bless her heart, asked with genuine confusion, "Boil the milk?"  
"For hot chocolate," I reiterated, slowly.  
"Oh. Are we out of Swiss Miss?"  
Francis snorted, that pretentious idiot, and I stomped into the house, feeling only a little sorry for leaving Anne without answer.

++++

I burned the milk.  
The smoke alarm went off and the house filled with the sickening sour smell that I attempted to clear out by propping the windows open and fanning the air with a dishcloth.   
The kids wrinkled their noses and both James and Henry went through the house chanting ew, ew, ewwww! All the while flapping their arms in attempts to help me get rid of the smell.  
By the time I silenced the stupid alarm, everyone was gathered around the archway leading into the kitchen, eyes flickering between the pot, the windows and me with mixed expressions.  
Surprisingly, it was Anne who cracked the first smile. Shortly after her quiet giggles started to fill the room, Francis was joining in, and then, the boys.  
I grit my teeth, turning off the burner and throwing the spoiled milk down the drain.  
"Umm, Mama?" Anne smiled, though not unkindly. "Maybe we should let Daddy make the hot chocolate."  
"Yeah!" James agreed, excitedly. "Papa makes the best hot chocolate!"  
"Papa makes the best everything," Henry added, taking Francis's hand into his tiny one.   
Francis looked down at him with a soft smile, rubbing his thumb along the back of Henry's chubby hand and my heart did this twisting-pulling thing that made it ache. I balled my clammy hands in the fabric of my shirt before giving a short shrug.  
"Okay." It took every ounce of self control I possessed to keep my voice calm as my eyes flickered to Francis's. I knew the level of annoyance I felt was unreasonable as I looked into his wide eyes - like he didn't know what it did to me. Like he was innocent in everything.  
"I'm sure you'll manage to find where everything is." I looked pointedly at Francis, mirroring his words from last night, a fact not lost on Francis, whose eyes stayed trained on me even after I'd left the kitchen.  
I heard him instructing the kids on how much milk to measure out, and which spices to help him find. I heard him pull out the drawers and the silence that followed with the realization that yes, after two years of divorce, I reorganized.   
Henry and James got a kick out of crushing chocolate up with their fists and all the kids hummed their appreciation as I heard Francis ask if they'd be the taste testers.  
I slumped down further on the couch with crossed legs and looked out the window at the snow-covered streets. It stopped snowing--for now anyway--but the realization made my tense shoulders relax a little.  
Just a weekend, I reminded myself. The roads will clear up by Monday and this will be over with. It's just a weekend.  
"Mary?"  
My head snapped over to Francis, who leaned against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen with a thick mug balanced in his palms. It steamed over his lips, and an intoxicatingly sweet smell that I hadn't enjoyed for a while now permeated the air.   
"What?"  
"Are you ready to stop pouting and come have hot chocolate with us?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
"This is supposed to be my holiday with them," I bit back, smart enough to keep my voice low so the distracted kids didn't hear.   
The lines around Francis's lips deepened, like he was disappointed in me or something. I folded my arms over my chest, refusing to back down. "I didn't ruin your Thanksgiving."  
"Yeah," he sighed, "Well, it wasn't my plan to be here either, Mary."  
He set the mug down on the table next to me and took a few steps back. I looked up when I noticed that he hadn’t retreated to the kitchen and found him staring down at me with an odd mix of emotions on his face. I studied my mug.  
"There's no marshmallows."  
"You moved just about every damn in there," he snorted, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "Hell if I know where you keep marshmallows, anymore."  
"Top cupboard," I mumbled. "Over the stove. I have to keep them high up or the boys will get into them."  
Francis chuckled, banging his loose fist against the side of his leg before eyeing the kitchen again.  
"Well, guess you better get to climbing if you want some."  
He was smiling with a spark of something wild in his eyes, but retreated to the kitchen before I had the chance to reply.  
It was a bitter action, when I finally made my way into the kitchen to watch Francis swirl whipped cream into the kids eager mouths, but they all smiled a little wider when they saw me lurking around the corner.  
"Mama, isn't it good?" James asked, and when he locked his hand around mine, pulling me forward, I didn't fight it.  
"Mhm," I forced out, which hadn’t escaped Francis.  
"Alright, who wants some marshmallows in their cocoa?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.  
It worked; the kids were jumping up and down with excitement as he lifted Anne up to grab the bag herself.   
Once her feet were back on the ground she handed them over to Francis, who shook his head and passed them off to me.  
"How about Mama does the marshmallows?" he asked, and they rushed over towards me, with their mugs held out greedily. Anne handed me the bag and I popped one in Henry's mouth before giving his irresistibly pudgy cheek a kiss.  
"See? She always puts in the perfect amount."  
Then, he gifted me the first true smile in I don’t know how long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! I finally posted chapter 3  
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!!


	4. Chapter 4

~ Starts as a flashback~ 

A rare July breeze flowed through the open window of the kitchen, a welcomed change to the normally unbearable heat that suffocated the air that time of year.  
I used an old dish cloth to clear away a layer of steam as I opened the oven and pulled free a pie made of fresh apples from the market. I dusted the top with cinnamon sugar, humming in appreciation as I caught a whiff and stood back to admire it.  
It couldn't compare to one of Francis's homemade creations, but I was damn proud of that pie and I knew Francis would be, too. Apple pie was his favorite, and by default Anne's too - ever the daddy's girl.  
I wasn’t sure where the idea came from to surprise Francis with a nice meal, but I was giddy with excitement at the thought of his reaction. The clock on the microwave flashed 5:35pm. He couldn't get home soon enough.  
I was chopping up fresh vegetables when the familiar creak of the door opening and shutting quietly permeated the room.   
I smoothed my hair and pulled my shirt down a little lower as he approached, busying myself with stirring the boiling summer soup when I heard him let out a low whistle in appreciation.  
The sleeves of his normally pristine shirt were rolled up to his elbows and his cheeks splotched red with heat from outside. I was unable to keep from licking my lips as my eyes roamed over his form fully.  
" Surprise," I smiled.  
" Surprise, indeed," he said with arched eyebrows. "But what’s the occasion? I know it's not anyone's birthday."  
I waltzed over to him languidly, pressing him up against the fridge with my hips as I wrapped my arms around his neck.  
" Nope," I agreed.  
" I don't think it's our anniversary."  
" No." I snickered and his face brightened in jest, an amused expression only faltering as I began to trail kisses down his jaw.   
" So, uh, what's the occasion?"  
" No occasion," I whispered with my lips right up against his ear. I felt his entire body shudder as I sucked on the skin just below it. "Just because."  
He let out a breathless hum. "I won't complain."  
I latched myself to him, allowing my lips to rest firmly against his and he groaned softly with my forwardness. I felt his hands glide down my back to rest right above the curve of my ass before pausing.  
He tried to break the kiss but I refused to let him, leaning forward as he pulled back. I could practically feel the smile creeping to his face as he murmured my name.   
" What?" I whined, moving my attack to his neck and sucking on it the way I knew drove him insane.   
" The kids?" he managed through gritted teeth. It was a small victory when his head rolled back and his hips came forward.  
" Boys just went down for a nap thirty minutes ago." I smiled."So, if we're quiet, we should have a solid hour and a half."  
Francis growled in reply, but turned his head from mine when I tried to reconnect our lips.  
" And our girl?"  
" I think we'll be rid of her for a while," I teased. "She's over at Darnley and Kira’s place, swimming."  
Immediately his body stiffened and his eager hands stilled their attack. When I looked up, his eyebrows were firmly dipped and his lips were in a tight line.  
" Darnley and Kira’s, huh?" he tried and failed to keep his voice conversational.  
" Well, they'd been over here running around for a while but decided to go over there and cool off."  
" Ahh," he said thoughtfully, not seeming to notice when I pulled back a little. His lips parted and puckered a few times, as if he was unsure of what he wanted to say before he finally looked at me with a level of practiced control.  
" Do you ever go over there to swim?"  
" Sometimes, yes," I answered, slowly. "What are you trying to get at?"  
" Nothing," he said, arms up in mock-surrender.  
" No really," I urged, folding my arms. "If you have something to say, then just say it, Francis."  
" I just think it must be nice is all." He wasn’t looking at me anymore, and my body felt tense. "To be able to go lounge by the pool all day with your 'friend' while I'm working."  
I took another step back with a sharp breath and wide eyes, an expression Francis immediately matched. His hand reached out for me but I immediately shrugged out of his reach, staring at him with piercing eyes.  
" Mary, no. I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that! I just-"  
" You just wanted to hurt me," I snapped and his mouth closed as he ran a hand over the back of his head. "And I'm not sure which is worse. You know this was not my choice. You know that if I could I would not be home all the fucking-"  
" I know! I know, fuck, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I just... I hate that things are the way they are and there's no hope for change in sight. I mean, you have to see where I'm coming from, even a little bit."  
I tried to put myself in his shoes, imagine him staying home all day with only Kira--beautiful, charming and sometimes scantily dressed, Kira--for company. The thought caused a wave of jealous heat to flood my face.  
" Yeah," I muttered. "It sucks."  
" But I shouldn't have taken it out on you," he said and finally I allowed myself to walk back into his extended arms, smacking his chest a little before placing a kiss there.  
" No, you shouldn't have." I agreed. "You need to trust me."  
" I do trust you," he emphasized and I rolled my eyes.   
" Darnley is just a friend," I whispered, pressing him back against the counter so that our bodies practically molded together. "That's why he's over there with the kids, and you're over here with me."

~End of flashback~

Saturday morning brought Virginian sun that helped to melt some of the snow from the driveway and streets.   
The kids laid out scattered across the floor, eyes glued to Charlie Brown's Christmas as they bit into their french toast idly. I don't think they'd had anything but home-cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner since Francis arrived.  
He was in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes and whistling absently when I got downstairs. The tune died on his lips when he noticed me in the corner, watching. He raised a dish with a slight nod of acknowledgement that I returned, taking it as an invitation to enter.  
I wrapped my robe tighter around my middle, keeping my arms folded until I reached out to steal a piece of bacon from the plate beside the oven. I swirled it in leftover syrup from what I assumed was Francis's plate.  
"I would have made you some," he commented, bending over to stick a plate in the dishwasher. I moved my eyes off his ass before he could notice me staring. "Just didn't know when you'd be joining us."  
"It's not even nine," I argued halfheartedly. If it were like old times, Francis would’ve rolled his eyes good naturedly. He had always gotten up before the sun rose and teased me for sleeping in.  
But he didn't tease me for my comment. He didn't even acknowledge it.  
"I don't like french toast anyway."  
That caught his attention as he narrowed his eyes at me.  
"Since when?"  
"Too egg-y."  
"Maybe at Denny's or somethin', but not my french toast."  
"I wouldn't know," I mumbled. "You’ve never made it for me."  
"Bullshit."  
"Wasn't one of your Valois’ creations back in the day, apparently."  
He was silent at that, scrubbing the same spot over and over again on the same plate.   
"Back in the day, huh?"  
His expression was unreadable as he finally bent to stick the dish into the washer and reach for another.  
"Mama!"  
Both our heads snapped over to Henry, who stood in the doorway with two ornaments in his hands, grinning widely.  
"Mama, can we decorate our tree?"  
"I guess we should do that, huh?" I asked, ruffling his thick blonde hair. He bounced up and down with excitement, practically dragging me into the living room with him.  
"I get to put the ornaments on, right Mom?"  
"No, Henry! You don't get to put all of them on, you have to share!" James lectured his brother, wagging a small finger in his face for emphasis.  
"But I get to do the first one!"  
"No!"  
"Boys." I warned. "If you fight, we won't decorate the tree. You need to be good, remember Santa is watching."  
They stood up a little straighter, nodding practically in unison as their small hands rifled through the box that had been sitting by the tree since Thursday.  
Kitty hopped up onto the couch and curled into a ball next to Anne, purring in contentment as she scratched behind her ears and bent down to place a kiss on her head.  
"Are you going to help, Papa?" she asked when Francis sat down next to her. He placed a heavy arm around her small shoulders, pulling her in closer to him.  
His eyes jet over to me, searching for something (permission, maybe?) before he turns back to Anne with reluctance.  
"How 'bout I watch you do it, kiddo?" He tried smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes.  
Anne frowned with deflated shoulders.  
"Why?"  
His mouth opened and closed once before he sucked in a breath. I cut him off before he could respond.   
"Francis?" His head darted over in my direction and Anne's followed. I shoved a long string of tinsel in their direction, turning back down to the box before muttering, "You could help Anne with this."  
"Yeah!"  
He palmed the material and it crinkled between his fingers before he nodded, dropping the bundle on Anne’s lap. Kitty immediately jumped off the couch and began to bat the tinsel only to jump away whenever it made noise.   
"Well this could take some time, Anne girl." He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and pulled at the tangled mess. "Mary, what'd you do last year? Just yank it off the tree and throw it in a box?"  
"Basically."  
He groaned.  
"Can't say I'm surprised. Organization has never been your strong suit."  
I ignored him, because that got under his skin deeper than any comment could. The boys continued to unwrap ornaments from tissue paper with my help. They flung the wrapping to the side, eager to see what they'd uncovered, as if they're opening presents.  
"This one's mine!" James grinned, pulling out a pottery, pancake-like ornament which had his footprint and name engraved at the bottom - gifts from Kenna after they were born. She did one with Anne too, a tiny toddler handprint.  
"Yup," I agreed, helping Henry to find his before he could start pouting. They went up to the tree and tried to find spots where everyone could see their ornaments, unwilling to listen as I urged them to let Anne and Papa finish untangling the tinsel first.  
Towards the bottom of the box, double-wrapped in deep green tissue was one that took me a moment to identify. Once I had, I quickly tried stuffing it back down into the box. It was too late though and Francis did a double-take in my direction, pointing towards the ornament with a mixture of confusion and another expression I mistook as awe...but it couldn't be.  
Probably just confusion.  
"You still have that thing?"  
It was from our first Christmas together.  
Anne was a tiny thing, still napping for more time than she spent awake, and Francis and I had excitedly decided to try making our own ornaments to hang on our very first shared tree.  
What had started out as a fun activity quickly turned into a frustrating exercise for Francis, who finally found something artistic he wasn’t naturally good at.   
In fact, mine might’ve even been a little bit better than his.  
" You have to keep it!" I demanded, tears in my eyes and a cramp in my stomach from laughing as he tried throwing it out.  
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, shaking his head as the ornament hung over the trash by just the tips of his fingers.  
" We can't hang this thing, Mary," he disagreed, though a hint of a smile played on his lips.  
" Oh, come on. It's a beautiful... pretzel?"  
His shoulders slumped in defeat, but he placed the ornament back down on the baking sheet next to mine before wrapping an arm around my middle and pulling me in closer to him.  
" It was supposed to be a snowflake," he whispered, our foreheads pressed together.  
I burst into another round of hysterics and he cracked a grin, eventually joining in before placing a kiss on the tip of my nose.  
" I just wanted to make it perfect for you."  
" It is perfect," I promised, lifting our entwined hands to my lips and giving the tips of his fingers gentle nibbles. "Thank you."  
My hands instinctively clutched around the old ornament, protectively. I tried to loosen my grip before he noticed, blinking away the memories while turning back to Francis.  
It hurt me more than I'd expected to realize he thought I’d thrown it away, like some cheap article of his clothing or a stupid knick-knack.  
Not this. Of course I've kept it. After everything, for as much as I could’ve easily killed Francis sometimes, I could never have gotten rid of it.  
He made it for me.  
But, I couldn't tell him any of that. No, of course not. There was no reason to, no way to explain without inviting further questions or confused looks that hinted at an ugly emotion like desperation.  
He was not allowed to know how much it meant to me anymore. But, I wasn’t enough of an actress to lead him into believing my having it was a mistake either.  
I settled for indifference, giving a little shrug before placing the ornament down in the pile of others to go on the tree.  
"Couldn't get rid of the pretzel." There was a wicked glint to my eye that Francis picked up on immediately and his lips twitched in a soft smile that made my stomach clench.  
"...It's a snowflake," he returned, jokingly and when his gaze lingered on mine a minute too long, the room felt fifteen degrees warmer.  
After about a half hour of detangling tinsel and figuring out where to balance ornaments so that the tree didn't tip, the kids lost interest and split up throughout the house with various activities, leaving Francis and I alone to finish up.  
Or really, just me. The room was thick with tension as Francis busied himself with his phone, staring at it with deeply-seated eyebrows and a false look of concentration.  
I moved to the opposite side of the tree, out of his direct line of sight, but still caught him glancing up every once in a while. At one point, I swore his eyes found mine, because both of us snapped our heads in opposite directions simultaneously.  
I stalled, pretending one ornament wasn't straight enough or that I'd rather hang another one higher or lower until I ran out of excuses to hide and switched over to the side closest to him.  
He was openly watching now, phone away and arms tucked critically over his chest. His lips were in a hard-pressed line, eyes roving over the tree with an array of emotions I didn't try to decipher.  
But if his thoughts resembled mine at all, it was no question as to why the air felt so unbreathable.  
For a moment there, you might have mistaken us for a real family.  
Of the six Christmases Francis and I spent together married, there was not one that passed where we did not decorate the house together.   
Francis would string the lights outside and hang the stockings. He'd decorate the mantel with pine garland and throw together spices to boil on the stove, making the house smell heavenly.  
I'd wrap the presents.  
We'd hang the ornaments and in the end, Francis would place the topper on the tip of the tree. I'd never been tall enough to reach.  
Last year, when I woke up to an empty house Christmas morning, a stinging pain worked its way through my gut and I cried until I felt numb.  
It was Francis's first Christmas with the kids and not me, and even though I knew I'd see them in just a few days and we'd still celebrate, it wasn’t the same.  
It was one of those painstaking moments where it hit me that I was divorced.  
I placed the last ornament onto the tree and stood back to admire my work with a successful smile. Francis was looking too, lifting himself off from the couch to stand beside me with a cocked head.  
"I would have put the lights on first."  
"Does it matter?" I gritted out.  
"Well, that way the wires wouldn't be covering the ornaments," he noted, pointing out a few places where they do just so. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides.  
"But, I guess it's not my tree, huh?"  
"That's right, so shut up," I said, reminding myself to ignore him when he cast me a sly smirk. "I'm damn proud of this tree and you aren't allowed to ruin that."  
"Well, if you're proud of it..."  
"--I am."  
"That's all that matters, then," he surrendered, though his tone hinted at condescension. He glanced up at the top of the tree, and then back down towards the box before his smirk widened and his gaze set on mine.  
"Forget somethin'?"  
"No," I snapped, picking the topper out from inside the box and unwrapping it hastily. I eyed the top of the tree with annoyance-- you'd think I'd start buying smaller ones --but refused to give him the satisfaction of asking for help or admitting defeat.  
I stood up on my tip-toes, reaching as far as I could and waving the thing around a little, hoping that just for a second, luck would be on my side and I'd be able to place it. I huffed, needing to hold my breath in order to get a good reach and then let out a small grunt as I tried to jump.  
Warm hands gripped my hips without warning and I let out a shocked gasp, squirming as I was lifted to the height of the tree. He only tightened his hold on me with my movements, balancing my body close to his own.  
My shirt lifted a little and I could feel his hot breath on the lower part of my back, causing goosebumps to rise along my skin. I shuddered, re-gripping the topper so as not to let it fall.  
"Go on then," he mumbled, but I knew I wasn’t heavy enough to cause his voice so much strain. When I glanced down, his normally bright blue eyes were hazy and he licked the corner of his lip absently.  
I swallowed, turning back to the tree and centered the topper before giving a short nod.  
"Okay." It was spoken breathlessly, lacking the force I'd meant it to have.  
He slid me down his body, never breaking contact with my hips and even after I was back on the ground he didn't let go.   
I felt like I was on fire, every single nerve ending tingling as I took in the way his lips were so close to my neck, his chest against my back, my ass…  
I shut my eyes, reflexively pressing back into him with the slightest pressure, afraid anything more might shatter the odd but thrilling moment.  
"I didn't hear you coming," I whispered and he chuckled silently against my skin.  
"I've had two years to practice being quiet."  
I turned back to look at him, but instead found Anne, standing in the corner of the room with watchful eyes and a practiced frown. I pulled apart so quickly it left Francis stumbling backwards, momentarily confused before he noticed our daughter as well and his pale skin broke out cherry red.  
I took a step forward to explain, but she only turned away, throwing a look over her shoulder.  
"Henry needs a band-aid."  
And just like that, everything was back to normal.  
Whatever "normal" was, anymore.

~Flashback~

I didn't know when the tradition began, but since Francis and I had lived here it was known that the last Saturday in August was reserved for an annual neighborhood block party.  
They were usually pretty lame, just a bunch of people who didn't stop to talk to each other any other day of the year gathered in someone's unkempt backyard with grass too stale for the kids to run around barefoot on.  
This year though, when Kira caught wind of a party, she insisted on hosting it at their house, not that anyone argued. Except Francis, of course, who didn't verbally say anything about it, but wore his disdain for the situation in his frown.  
" You want anything?" Darnley asked, pulling open the fridge and poking his head inside.  
Kira set up an entire margarita bar, which Narcisse hadn't parted from all afternoon, and amongst it were designated beverage areas overflowing with soft drinks, teas and bottled waters. But, Darnley had beer, which he proudly pulled out, waving them in my direction with a winning smile.   
He worked the caps off quickly and handed one to me, a cloud of condensation leaving the bottle. I sighed with my first gulp, the cool liquid working all the way down my body.  
" I feel like rebellious teenagers right now," I said against the head of my bottle. "Sneaking beer into the party."  
" Yeah, well, I definitely needed one to make it the rest of the way through," he snorted, leaning against the counter before pointing a finger in my direction. "Don't tell Kira."  
"' Course not," I snickered before Darnley released a breath.  
" Guess we should wander back out there, huh?"  
" Maybe," I agreed and we both looked out the large french doors leading to the backyard but made no move to push past them. Instead, Darnley hopped around the counter, coming to stand beside me and folded his arms across his chest.  
" Can you believe the Gonzalezes showed up?" he asked after a rare moment of silence passed between the two of us and I looked up at him with a growing smile.  
" Okay, I was waiting for you to say something about that!"  
He barked out a laugh, turning his body towards mine the way he did when he was gearing up for something. We went back and forth until he told me something so funny I nearly spit out my drink. The glass doors slid open suddenly, and Francis followed Kira in with a calculated expression that made it much easier to swallow as I took a nervous gulp.  
" Here they are!" Kira smiled, her flip flops smacking against the floor loudly as she crossed over to the kitchen.  
" What was so funny?" Francis asked, and to any other person it'd just be a friendly form of conversation, but I saw the tension in his shoulders.  
" I'll tell you later."  
" It's probably not even that funny," Darnley said, oblivious to the exchange happening between Francis and me. "More of a 'you had to be there' moment."  
Francis's eyes narrowed, and finally Kira must’ve noticed because she smacked his chest playfully, resting an arm over his shoulder.  
" Don't worry about it, Francis," she urged. "These two are thick as thieves, practically speaking their own language. I don't get their inside jokes either."  
I set my beer down on the counter with a held breath.  
" Yes, well, speaking of thievery," Francis cleared his throat, extending a hand toward me. "If you don't mind, I'll be stealing my wife back."  
Darnley nodded, already preoccupied with Kira's instructions to help her carry out something I missed as Francis and I hastily walked out of ear shot and through the door onto the front lawn.  
Francis winced in the heavy sunlight and shifted from foot-to-foot before I finally asked what all this was about. The answer was obvious.  
" I don't want you hanging around him anymore."  
" Excuse me?" I scoffed. "What are you, my father?"  
" No, I'm-"  
" Jealous," I sneered. "Jealous of a man, who by the way in case you've forgotten, is married - to fucking Kira who could easily run circles around me! So, no I don't think that for a second that he goes to bed at night wishing he was with someone like me when he's sleeping with her!"  
" See, this is why I'm worried, Mary," Francis said, shaking his head tersely. "You don't see yourself for what you are, which happens to be a beautiful young woman. Your impression of yourself is so warped-"  
" Uh oh, trouble in paradise."  
Both our heads snapped up to Narcisse, who sat at the very edge of the porch, blowing a low whistle our way. I sighed in aggravation. Of course he’d seen our entire public display.  
" Keep going!" he urged. "This is better entertainment than anything happenin' on the other end of the house."  
" Narcisse," Francis grit out. "Why don't you go get a margarita or something?"  
" Can't." He smiled. "Been cut off."  
" Then go get a water bottle and sober up," I snapped, which only made him chuckle as he rose to his feet, hands up in fake surrender.  
" Alright, alright. I know when I'm not wanted." His hand was on the door knob when he turned to Francis and pointed a finger in his direction. "Word of advice, boy. Happy wife, happy life. We both know Mary here doesn't take kindly to orders."  
" Thanks Narcisse, I'll be sure to take marriage advice from you."  
" Francis!" I snapped, but Narcisse only hooted out a laugh, shaking his head a little before going back inside.  
Francis turned back to me, eyes shut and nostrils flared as he tried to calm his breathing.  
" ...Please?" he finally asked in a broken voice much softer than the commands he'd been doling out at me minutes ago. "It's hard enough between work and the kids to get your attention, but now I have to fight for it from him too?"  
I looked down at the perfectly manicured lawn, avoiding his eyes.  
" I know it's not romantic." He chuckled with self-depreciation. "But, I need to be the one making you laugh and sharing inside jokes."  
" I'm allowed to have friends, Francis," I said in a measured tone. "You'd rather I sat around alone in the house all day long with the kids doing nothing and that's not fair."  
" Any friend," Francis pleaded. "You can have any friend but the tall, buff neighbor who eye-fucks you every time you walk into a room."  
" You don't know what you're talking about!" Now I was shouting. "We are friends! He doesn't eye-fuck me."  
" Trust me, he does," Francis insisted. "I need you to trust me when I say I know how to point out a shady guy-"  
" No, Francis," I interrupted, holding a hand up to stop him. "I need you to trust me."

~End of flashback~

I wasn’t sure why I tried keeping the bathroom clean during the boys' bath time. It was like a hurricane passed through, with water seeping through the bath rug and toys scattered along the floor.  
I covered their faces with fluffy towels, rubbing it over their heads until their curls stood on end and they were giggling uncontrollably.  
"Okay," I instructed once they'd spit into the sink and bright blue tooth paste covered the corners of their mouths. "PJ time."  
Henry let out an argumentative grunt as I urged them towards their room and I gave him a playful swat on the butt as he passed. They waddled down the hall, past Anne's room and into theirs all the while jabbering in that child-like language I could only partially understand.   
I heard Francis before I saw him, stomping up the steps in his heavy-footed way. He peeked around the corner of the stairs at me, pointing towards the open door of the boys' room.  
"Can I say goodnight?"  
"Yeah," I nodded, flicking the light to the bathroom off. "Of course."  
He smiled, sneaking into the boys' room, much to their delight. I heard their welcoming squeals at his presence and when I poked my head through the door I watched as he helped them into their pajamas, tickling their sides and blowing raspberries onto their exposed bellies.  
James noticed me lurking first, and with a wide grin came bounding over and gripped my hand, dragging me further into the room. Both boys looked up at me before Francis straightened, toying with the hem of his shirt.  
"Alright boys," he said, rubbing a hand over Henry's head tenderly. "Goodnight."  
"Wait!" Henry exclaimed before Francis was able to kiss his head. "We need a bedtime story, Papa."  
Both of the boys looked at him expectantly and I swallowed hard, twisting my hands within each other as I began to shuffle towards the door, looking anywhere but in Francis's general vicinity.  
"You want Papa to read it to you tonight?" I asked, proud of how much control I was able to keep over my tone.  
"Both!" James insisted without missing a beat, and Henry gladly agreed.  
"Yeah! Both Mama and Papa read us a story!"  
I exchanged a look with Francis, who stuffed his hands into his pockets; a nervous tick I've known him to have since we first met. He stumbled over his words, too, while trying to ask me out on a date.  
"Which book?" he finally asked, glancing up at the collection on the shelf. He pulled one free, looking it over with mild interest before flashing it at them.  
Henry wrinkled his nose.  
"Not that one."  
"No, no, no," James agreed. "A newer one."  
"Good thing I know which of these are new," I heard Francis mumble under his breath and couldn’t help the low snort that escaped me. I saw him look me over from the corner of his eye.  
"Okay, no stories until after two little teddy bears are in bed."  
They climbed into their beds quickly, Henry burrowing under his until the covers came up to his chin and James settled down with them almost at his feet, arms lazily sprawled behind his head.  
"How about this one?"  
"Newer!"  
"This one?"  
"Newer!" Henry giggled, and it was clear that this had become a game.  
"Boys," I said, trying to remain stern, but their contagious giggles got the best of me and I found myself fighting back a smile. "You can't keep saying 'no' if you want to hear a story tonight. Now, what kind of story do you want to hear?"  
"Something we haven't heard yet," James explained with a heavy yawn. "Make up a new story."  
"Yeah!" Henry nodded, agreeing with his brother enthusiastically, as usual. "Tell us a made up story! You and Papa make it up!"  
I jumped a little as Francis appeared at my side and came to sit next to me without hesitation. He crossed his legs under each other and starex back at the boys with an excited grin.  
"I bet you boys didn't know that your Papa is an extraordinarily good story-teller," he told them with arched eyebrows, and they wiggled in their beds in anticipation. He looked at me when I pursed my lips and shot me a wink that left my mind blank.  
"Want to start, Mama?"  
"Okay," I said slowly, rubbing my clammy hands over the length of my jeans. I lowered myself to the ground and got comfortable. "Once there was a boy and a gir-"  
"-Not a love story!" James wrinkled his nose.  
"Now these weren't just a regular boy and girl, they were special, they were royals," I continued, regaining his attention.  
“Whoaaa!"  
"Let Mama tell her story," Francis urged him, and he leaned a little further back in his bed.  
“Now this boy and girl were expected to marry and rule 2 countries side by side," I said quickly and heard Francis force back a chuckle beside me. I bit the side of my cheek as the boys sat unblinking. "The story starts when they are teenagers, the girl returns to the castle from the convent where she had been living. Papa?"  
"She was nervous to return, but her friends were there with her. Sadly, when she returned she saw the boy did not want to marry her."  
"Oh no," I heard Henry whisper, hanging onto Francis's words.  
We went back and forth like that for a while, creating a crazy tale of a boy and a girl who were royalty and fell in love despite all of their obstacles. As promised, Francis was a good story-teller, far surpassing me as he added details I wouldn't dream of thinking up. It turned out to be pretty fun.  
We were all laughing by the time the story is finished, reveling in the ridiculousness of it.  
I wiped the corner of my eye, looking over my shoulder only after I felt a presence lurking there, to find Anne in the doorway, arms folded and eyes staring intently at the backs of mine and Francis's heads. He noticed her too, but before either of us could say anything, she was gone, heading back down the hall into her bedroom.  
Francis and I exchanged a quick look before he hopped up onto his feet and I imitated his movements, brushing something imaginary off my pants.   
"Goodnight, Henry," I leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead, brushing thick curls from his eyes. Francis did the same as I moved to James, and once they were both properly tucked in and the lights were out, we exited quietly and shut the door behind us.  
Anne was in her bed, curled up with a book and Kitty resting beside her when we poked our heads through her cracked door to say goodnight. She barely acknowledged our presence, just a flicker of her eyes up at us before they darted back to her book.  
"I'm not a baby," she told us, quickly. "I can read my own bedtime stories."  
Mine and Francis's eyes met as we moved further into the room hesitantly, and I ran a hand over the back of my neck, shrugging a little in the silence.  
"Well, you might not be a baby, but you're still our baby," Francis said, causing Anne to give a quick roll of her eyes.  
"Excuse me?" he asked, and although his tone reeked of teasing, it gained her full attention as he took a few steps closer to her. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?"  
"Yes."  
"Oh man," he sighed deeply, placing a knee on the cushion-top of her mattress before falling down on it beside her and wrapping his arm around her. "I think someone needs an attitude adjustment!"  
She squealed as he began to tickle her, squirming and wiggling in an attempt to get free, all the while fighting the urge to laugh until she could no longer take it and curled into a ball, laughing hysterically and begging him to quit it!  
"Admit you're our baby!" Francis insisted, blowing a raspberry on her neck. She refused until he worked his way under her armpits, then she forfeited almost immediately. I cracked a smile.  
"Fine! Fine! I'm your baby, now stooop!"  
He did at her request, placing one last kiss on her bright red cheek. Her smile fell nearly the instant she caught her breath.   
"I still don't need a bedtime story, though," she promised solemnly. "Even if I did deserve one."  
"What?" I asked, taken aback by her words. Her sad eyes met mine for a second before they flickered back down to the book and she curled up on her side, opposite Francis.  
"Goodnight."  
" Anne," I persisted, reaching out to put a hand on her. Francis caught my shoulder first, shaking his head slightly when I turned back to look at him. I knew my expression was openly confused and as I turned back to look at my dejected child I felt as though my insides were being crushed. Francis rubbed a soothing circle over my shoulder blade before mumbling a gentle 'goodnight' in return to Anne and closing the door.  
We walked downstairs in silence and I fell down into one of the plush chairs as Francis mumbled something about starting a fire. I could only manage a nod, my mind a thousand miles away as I watched him pile wood inside the fireplace.  
"She blames herself, you know,” he whispered.   
"I didn't know." I matched the softness of his tone. "I always just thought she was a serious girl, like me."  
Francis cracked a sad smile before placing the guard in front of the fireplace and moving up onto the couch adjacent to me.  
"Do you want a drink?" I sighed, and Francis ran a hand over his temples.  
"Please."  
I returned with two wine glasses and a full bottle, which made him laugh, and set it down on the table between us before slumping back into my chair.  
"I think we needed this about two nights ago," he teased. I snorted, rolling my eyes with the first sip.   
"Well, she's certainly inherited that eye-roll from you, that's for sure," he noted. "Can't believe she rolled her eyes at me... does she roll her eyes at you?"  
"Yeah."  
Francis sighed, taking another sip with a shake of his head.  
"I didn't want things to be like this," he mumbled. There was deep-seated pain in his tone I couldn't ignore. I kept my lips pressed against my glass, glancing up at him only through my eyelashes to see him staring down distantly.  
"I know."  
He looked up and after a second of just staring he gave a soft shrug and turned to look back out the window.  
"I guess we'll all need to adjust."  
I didn't respond, but his words stuck in my mind. I swallowed a little harder than normal and sputtered out a cough.  
Francis looked me over with mild confusion.  
"I'm fine," I croaked, but my thoughts were still racing.  
He's not adjusted?  
"You're right. About adjusting," I finally added, setting the glass down. "It takes time, but she'll learn. Soon enough this'll be normal for her."  
Francis nodded in reply, though not necessarily in agreement.  
"Guess it'll have to be, you know, once you start... well, you know. Bringing men around and... people of that nature."  
Francis, who if nothing else was usually spectacular with his words--never losing composure and who seemingly had a knack for having me on the brink of a mental breakdown with a simple sentence--was flustered.  
"Unless you already have," he added, trying too hard to remain casual as his eyes shifted between me and the floor several times.  
My lips twitched. It was too much to pass up on, seeing him all out of sorts. He must’ve noticed the devil behind my gaze because his colored cheeks paled slightly and his eyes widened before he could stop them.  
"Are you?"  
To say I hadn't been on a date since the divorce would’ve been a lie. The girls from the office had been pretty insistent on me putting myself back out there since I started, and that was before the divorce was even legalized.  
I'd waited, putting it off with the false hope that maybe it was all some elaborate joke--a way for him to get it into my brain how seriously downhill things had gone for the two of us and that he wanted to fix it. My Francis was always hell-bent on fixing things. He'd never just throw away our marriage. He couldn't want to start over.  
But the divorce papers were signed and Francis left so quickly after, peeling down the street before I'd barely left the building.  
So, I dated. It seemed pathetic to wait and pathetic to be barely twenty-five with a failed marriage and pathetic that I was scrounging up dimes to buy my kids happy meals because I didn't have enough for fresh produce.  
I blinked the memories away, until they were a hazy fog tucked into the back of my mind. Things weren't like that anymore. Bills were manageable, work was flexible and I was always home in time to get the kids off the bus.  
Francis didn't get the satisfaction of knowing my struggles. He didn't get to smirk or laugh or shoot me one of those ill-timed looks of sympathy.  
I wouldn't let him have that.  
"No one important," I stated vaguely, because if he was allowed to drive me completely insane then I could have some fun of my own.  
"What does that even mean?" he asked with narrowed eyes.   
I shrugged my shoulders and his jaw clenched. Instinctively, so did my legs.   
"Last I knew you couldn't wait to trade me in for a newer model."  
"You left, Francis," I bit. "Not me."  
"What exactly would you have done, Mary?" he asked with a slightly raspy voice. His eyes were wide and vulnerable. If only for a second, he dropped his defenses. "If your daughter told you that your husband-" he cut himself off, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes and breathing heavily through his nose.  
I waited, leg bouncing with uncontrollable nerves and I busied myself by re-filling my glass.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment. His blonde lashes stuck together above red-rimmed eyes. "I'm so tired, Mary. Tired of fighting, tired of holding onto this anger... just tired."  
We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the occasional crackles and snaps of the fireplace.  
"Has anyone?" I asked without thinking, long after I'd emptied my second glass. Francis's head snapped up with confusion, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of my question.  
"Has anyone...?"  
"Appreciated your hands?"  
The look of concentration froze on his face before the meaning dawned on him. Any warmth he'd exuded before faded, leaving the room icy even with the blazing fire.  
"No," he ground out, shaking his head as if to center himself. "You don't get to ask that."  
I swallowed and set my glass down a little rougher than intended.  
"God, Mary," he spat, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You - sometimes, you're just..."  
He couldn’t even finish the sentence and I didn't blame him. I wasn’t sure that I could either.  
My cheeks stung and the unwanted prickle of impending tears laced the corners of my eyes. The harder I blinked the more it seemed to intensify. A single tear ran down the length of my cheek, followed by a few others and then I was sniffling like an idiot, using the corner of my sleeve to mop up the mess before Francis could notice.  
But of course he noticed.  
"You don't get to do that either," he whispered firmly, tone holding a hint of something more to it that time. When I glanced up and our eyes met, he looked as pained as I felt.   
"That's not fair," I said and his Adam's apple bobbed.  
"Life's not fair, Mary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this was a long one, I probably could have split it up into two chapter but I don't feel like it soooooo.
> 
> There's a few frary moment in this chapter and a bit more insight into their marriage and why they broke up
> 
> Hope you love it!! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

At some point we fell asleep.   
I woke up with a start to a still dark sky and the fire faded down to almost nothing as I looked around in confusion.  
Francis gave a stuttering snore, one of his legs dangling off the side of the couch and his arms resting neatly over his chest. I winced a little, rubbing away some of the stiffness from my neck before stretching out my back. God, that chair was not meant for sleeping in.  
The clock above the mantel read 3:45am. I picked up the empty glasses and remaining bottle of wine and poured it down the drain now that it was surely stale.   
There was hesitation in my steps as I started for the stairs, one hand firmly fixed around the railing as I turned back to look at Francis. He’d always been such a boyish sleeper; all the heavy lines of stress and worry gone as he lost himself in a dreamland.  
I pulled the quilt off the back of the couch and fanned it out over him. He jumped a little at the contact, face screwed up in confusion as he blinked and his tired eyes fixated on me.   
"Go back to sleep," I urged quietly. When I turned to walk away, his hand caught my wrist.  
"Wait." His request was slurred as sleep overpowered his consciousness. I tried to pull away again but he jolted a little, yawning and tugging me in closer to him.  
"Wait," he said again, and that time I listened, sitting down on the small space of couch beside him. He barely opened his eyes as he mumbled his next words.   
"Stay with me."  
And because I’m so weak when it comes to him, I did.

+++

I woke up in a disoriented haze, wincing at the brightness of daylight through the open blinds. My cheek was firmly pressed against the backside of the couch and my legs twisted around the blanket, intertwined with…  
Oh.  
I stiffened, trying to explore the situation without moving my head around and waking Francis up.   
His arm was wrapped firmly around my midsection, warm fingers settling between the grooves of my ribs and I could feel his warm morning breath fan itself across the back of my neck.  
I felt the intense urge to move...probably because I was trying so hard not to. My scalp itched and my arm fell asleep underneath me and suddenly being sandwiched between the couch and Francis had me feeling short of breath.  
I moved slightly, leaning further into Francis while twisting my hips in his direction just enough to free my trapped hand. It was enough movement though, and his arm tightened, pulling me impossibly closer to him with a sleepy moan before his entire body grew rigid.  
I felt his eyes on me before I chanced a look, wide and confused and still glazed over with sleep.  
"What the hell?" he whispered groggily. Immediately, it was clear he didn’t remember anything about late last night.   
My stomach rolled and I jumped upright, trying to match his expression with an appalled one of my own.  
"We must've fallen asleep," I said, pulling on my shirt self-consciously. His eyes flickered down the exposed length of my torso and his mouth opened just as a large crash from the other side of the wall caused us to jump.  
How we slept through the commotion, I wasn’t unsure, but the kitchen was an absolute mess when we rounded the corner and stared inside with shock.   
The boys had flour up to their forearms and a very frustrated looking Anne wore dough on her cheeks.  
"What- umm, kids?"  
"Aw man, you woke up!" James grumbled, tipping an already overflowing bowl of mixture into lined cupcake tins. It went everywhere with his unpracticed hands, causing the tins to crinkle and sticky dough to drip down the side of the countertop.  
"Oh!" Anne gasped, grabbing a rag to help wipe it up. She cast us a sheepish look over her shoulder. "We were trying to surprise you."  
"We're um... surprised." I blinked and Francis nodded next to me, eyes flickering over the kitchen but never fully landing on one particular thing.  
"Very," he said before inhaling and clapping his hands together. "How about I help you finish up?"  
"Oh, hooray! We're saved!" Henry beamed, bouncing up and down as Francis washed his hands and instructed the kids to clean up their stations first.  
I took that time to start cleaning up the rest of the house. I blushed while folding up the blanket we'd fallen asleep together under, realizing that at some point the kids had seen us, and then wiped down the table and ran the vacuum before lighting a few candles that smelled of peppermint.  
With Francis's help, the kids made chocolate-cranberry muffins, with fluffy plump tops and warm centers that practically melted on the tongue. Between the four of us, we finished the dozen and remaining milk.  
"Those were delicious guys, thank you." I smiled, patting my full belly appreciatively. The boys glowed with praise as I began to collect plates and offered to clean up the kitchen since they all worked so hard.  
Francis followed me in, throwing the milk jug in with the recycling and taking one of the rags to start wiping up the counter top.  
"It's alright," I promised, still uncomfortable after this morning. I imagined his muscular arms, busying themselves with scrubbing the counter, wrapped around me. The way his strong legs had woven through mine like they belonged there, how it felt for the brief moment I was able to press my hips back into his.  
"Do you want to shower?"  
Francis looked at me, dumbfounded and if possible my cheeks grew more crimson.  
"I-I just meant, if you needed to... you know, I could keep a lookout on the kids right now is all."  
His lips pulled up into a wicked grin and he gave a small nod, tossing the towel down onto the counter.  
"Sure, thank you."  
I nodded, refusing to look up at him while scrubbing the plates forcibly. They were practically clean before I’d even placed them inside the dishwasher, but I did anyway, packing it up until there was no space left.   
Francis's large hands gripped my hips suddenly as I closed the machine, causing me to jump with an unexpected gasp. I whipped around, but he didn't let go and his stark blue eyes bored into mine.   
"By the way," he whispered, and I swore I saw his tongue tease out the corner of his mouth. "You fell asleep in the chair last night."

~Flashback~  
Anne decided her favorite season was fall.  
Mama and Papa were married in fall. Her baby brothers were born right at the tail end of it. And even though she had to wear a sweater outdoors, she liked that she woke up to the surprise of different colored leaves that grew brighter each day.  
Ever her father's daughter, she loved painting them.  
She and Claire ran around the backyard, collecting leaves of different sizes and colors, before rushing over to show off some of their prettiest finds.   
Darnley and I each held a squirming and curious twin, both dying to wiggle their way free from our grasps with nowhere to go. I'd be surprised though, if they weren't taking their first steps by the end of the month.  
" How do you ever get anything done with these guys around?" Darnley asked, using a voice he reserved only for talking with babies before he turning to me with a teasing smirk. "Oh that's right, you have me come over to help."  
" I got by just fine before you," I retorted to which he scoffed so dramatically it made me laugh.  
" Got by just fine for all of what? Four months of their lives before I moved in?"  
" Was not four," I argued. "They were at least five months."  
" Details," he said, reaching out to bop me on the nose with his pointer finger. I wrinkled it and he laughed, looking down before his eyes flit back up to mine almost shyly.  
" I think Henry needs a diaper change," I said, holding him up and sniffing as if to prove my point. He giggled and kicked his feet - everything was always a game with him, and Darnley nodded - promising to look after the kids.  
I passed through the garage, humming to a cooing Henry who fisted my hair with fascination.  
As I walked up the sidewalk, I noticed Narcisse rocking back and forth in his chair, watching me thoughtfully.  
" Hi, Narcisse," I offered with fake-sunniness, but he only grunted in reply.  
" How are you Mrs. Valois?"  
" Fine," I said slowly. "What's with the formalities?"  
" Just reminding you of who you are." He spit into the grass before folding his arms again with a quirked brow.  
" Meaning what?" I bit, bouncing Henry on my hip.  
" Meaning you're playin' with fire, girl."  
" I'm not playing with anything." I winced immediately as he laughed at the double meaning.  
" What does Mr. Valois think about y'alls... play date?"  
" He's fine with it," I sniffed, raising my chin a little in defiance before turning into the house on my heels.  
I caught a glimpse of the kids in the yard through the window as I changed Henry and smiled as the girls giggled and flopped into a large pile of leaves.   
Henry giggled when I blew raspberries on his belly and lifted him up in my arms, bouncing down the stairs and out the front door.  
" Papa! Papa! Papa!"  
Anne ran through the garage as Francis pulled into the driveway. He gave the top of her head a firm kiss, smile slowly falling as Claire, Darnley and James came into view.  
" Hey, man." Darnley smiled, but Francis gave no pretense of friendship as he grabbed James and shot a glare in my direction.  
" I got takeout," he hissed, brushing past me with Anne trailing behind him. The door shut tight enough to make me wince, and when I chanced a look over at Narcisse he was shaking his head in distaste.  
I grit my teeth, giving Darnley an apologetic look, who was staring at the door in confusion. He rubbed the back of his neck before shrugging a little and reached out for Claire's hand.  
" We should get going anyway," he suggested. "Got to start on dinner."  
" Bye now!" Narcisse called from across the street, waving obnoxiously towards Darnley as he made his way down the driveway. He waited until Darnley was out of earshot to turn back to me, wearing a look of disappointment that made my chest hurt. I was annoyed with myself for it, because I didn't known Narcisse was capable of having that power over me.  
" He doesn't look all that 'fine' with it, Mrs. Valois."  
" You don't even know what you're talking abou!" I snapped, rushing into the house before he could lecture me further.  
But he was right.  
The bed couldn't have felt colder that night.

~~~  
Francis was still in the shower when I finished with the dishes.  
The kids were so preoccupied coloring and idly watching the television screen that I didn't feel worried about leaving them unattended for a bit until he's finished up.   
Anne was around, anyway. She would keep an eye on her brothers.   
I bit the inside of my burning cheek as I recalled Francis's words from the kitchen earlier, and the way he'd felt pressed up against me. My whole body flushed as a familiar rush of warmth spread through it.  
Pull it together. My mind was quick to bring me back to reality, because it was crazy...completely insane...to be lusting after my ex-husband.  
It's not like I don't already know how he is in bed or something.  
But, maybe that was part of the problem.  
I groaned pathetically before shutting the door to my bedroom. I stripped my shirt off, flinging it to the other side of the room before coming up short with a gasp.   
I stopped with wide eyes as I noticed the open bathroom door.   
"What the hell?"  
Francis's eyes met mine in the mirror that hung above the sink, his face just as startled as mine. I had no idea why he was so surprised...like it wasn’t my bedroom. With only a towel covering his lower half from me, his shoulders tensed and beads of water trailed down his chest.   
"I-I'm sorry." I blushed, turning away from him. It was only then that I remembered I was standing there in my fucking bra. In a vain attempt at modesty, I folded my arms over my chest, and shifted on my feet awkwardly.  
"I thought you were downstairs."  
"I... no," he finished lamely, and the entire length of his exposed body was red. I stared at the dimples right above his ass for a second too long.  
"I guess I assumed. Since you said we'd take turns."  
"I just assumed you'd use the same one you'd been using."  
"My bad," he mumbled. "This bathroom is nicer. Bigger."  
"Yeah, I know," We both paused for a moment before I blinked in the other direction, reaching down blindly for my shirt. I wasn’t sure if it was possible to feel more mortified than I did in that moment. "I'm sorry."  
He watched as I struggled to untangle my shirt, but when I pressed an arm through the hole, he took a hesitant step forward, eyes boring into mine.  
"No," He hesitated the moment the word left him. He licked his lips and gave a soft shake of his head before continuing. "Don't."  
So, I didn't.  
I stood there, one hand in my shirt but otherwise fully exposed to him, chest heaving and mouth slightly parted with anticipation.   
It reminded me so much of the first time I slipped my shirt off for him, unsure and hesitant. He’d looked at me like I was this stunning thing, with wide eyes and parted lips and for once in his life, nothing to say.  
Sort of like the way he was looking at me right now.  
His Adam's apple bobbed and the hand that wasn’t keeping his towel from falling down was restless at his side.  
"I-"  
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of a childish scream from downstairs--one that hinted more at someone stealing someone else’s crayons or hair pulling rather than joy.  
With that the spell was broken and I wasn’t sure I'd ever know what he was about to say. Because instead of finishing his sentence, Francis shook his head, staring back at me with a mix of emotions before rushing back into the bathroom.   
"I can't do this.” I heard him mutter, and I was left standing shirtless in my own room, feeling like the outsider.

+++

I showered downstairs in the small, cramped guest bathroom that didn't have my normal shampoo or deodorant. But that didn't even matter. Anything was better than going back upstairs and facing Francis.  
I stalled for extra time, blowing out my hair instead of letting it air dry and refolding the unused towels that sat on the built-in shelf over the toilet.   
I sat on the side of the tub for another ten minutes, checking my Instagram feed. Refreshed it twice before I heard Henry call out, asking where I was.  
He’d already preoccupied himself with something by the time I came back up. I bypassed the living room all together, ignoring Francis's watchful eyes which burned a hole through the side of my head.  
He followed me into the kitchen, holding an arm out in front of the archway as though he were afraid I'd try to escape. I narrowed my eyes a little and he inhaled deeply.  
"Mary. Look, I'm sorr-"  
"--Stop," I held a hand up at him. "Drop it, okay? It's fine."  
The words came out sharper than I intended them to but damnit, I was done. I was angry and there wasn’t any point in pretending.   
We weren’t married. We didn't need to talk through our arguments or make up like we used to.  
We just had to be civil.  
"I just wanted yo-"  
"Francis," I said again, having passed my level of patience. "I don't care."  
"It doesn't seem that way."  
"I don't want to talk about it anymore! Just don't mention it. It doesn't matter. We just have to get through one more day and this will be over."  
And like that, any walls I'd successfully knocked down over the past two days were back up, miles higher than before.   
I watched his expression turn guarded again, a look of nothingness as he nodded sharply and turned back to the kids.  
"Fine," he swallowed, but the crack in his voice gave him away. He cleared it and nodded his head. "That's fine."  
Through the afternoon, we communicated through 'fine's,' tense nods and short questions.   
The change in atmosphere hadn't escaped the kids but anytime things got too tense and their wide eyes shifted between us, we both plastered bright smiles on our faces.  
As if that was enough to fool our smart children.  
Before the sun set too far in the horizon, Francis wanted to go out to the car to gather up some of the information for the towing company in the morning.  
"Do you mind?" he asked, stumbling a little as he tried to balance on one foot and double-knot his other shoe lace. "All the snow is piled up near the passenger side, but you're small enough to climb over the driver's seat."  
It was colder than I expect it to be outside, with fresh flakes falling and a windchill that made me tug my jacket a little higher up on my neck.  
Francis unlocked the door and offered a quiet word of thanks as I slipped inside. He drummed a sporadic beat on the side of the car as I climbed over into the passenger seat before one of Narcisse’s deafening cackles sounded from across the street, causing his movements to halt.  
"You're still here, boy?" he asked, and through the rear view mirror I could make out the satisfied smirk on the corners of his lips. "When are ya plannin' on just movin' back in?"  
"That plan's not in the playbook," Francis called back, leaning easily against the car, one arm resting on the roof and the other against the ajar door as Narcisse gave a displeasing grunt.  
"Girl sure could use a man 'round here, though."  
I rolled my eyes, licking the tip of my finger to sift through the thick stack of papers and documents. I found two speeding tickets and gave them both double-takes in shock, but left them buried amongst the other papers.  
I've never known Francis to get a ticket in his life.  
"Oh yeah?" I can hear the spark of curiosity in Francis's tone as he adjusted himself more upright. "Am I the only one who's been around lately?"  
"Umm, shut up!" I demanded, twisting my body so that my head was leaning out the car, much to both of their amusement.   
Francis gave me a challenging look and Narcisse sat back in his chair, like he was watching a damn sitcom.  
" Lately?" He began, the finger I jabbed in his direction only seeming to egg him on. "Try ever."  
"Narcisse, shut up! God dammit."  
"Been dry as a desert around these parts since you left, wouldn't you say, Mary?"  
My teeth gnashed together at Francis's amusement. When I sent him a death glare he wasn’t unable to wipe the satisfied smirk from his face.  
"I could smack both of you," I hissed. "But I won't, because I'm choosing to be the bigger person."  
"'Atta girl," Narcisse hooted, clapping his hands together as I slammed the front door shut. "Aw, Mary don't be cross. You know I have to poke fun. Boys' leavin' any day now, ain't that right?"  
"Tomorrow," Francis confirmed.  
"Roads have been fine for a few days now if you ask me."  
"Good thing no one did," Francis said, a minute later, adding, "Tow people won't come til tomorrow, anyway."  
"Ahh."  
Francis caught my arm as I tried brushing past him back to the house. He spun me back to face him, eyes teasing yet... hopeful? Or was that just hope on my part?   
"A desert, huh?"  
"Go to hell," I whispered, the words not nearly as firm as I meant for them to be.   
He smiled wider, following me up the path towards the house with a low whistle.  
"You know," he mumbled in a voice so low there was no chance for anyone but me to hear. "I could help you out with that."  
I stopped so suddenly he nearly lost balance and tripped off to the side to avoid crashing into me. He was still smiling, with his arms folded across his chest, but there was seriousness and heat in his expression that only pissed me off.  
"I don't understand you," I said, shaking my head with mild disgust. It caught him off guard, his eyebrows raised and lips fell as he considered my words and tried to make sense of them.  
"You're so hot and cold. I can't keep up. I-I don't know what it is you want, Francis."  
"I don't know either," he admitted, chancing a step forward. "It's you. Being around you fucks me up."  
"Well, deal with it."  
"I've been dealing with it for two years now, Mary," he responded, throwing his arms up in defeat. "Believe me, no one is more ready for me to be over you than me. I... what?"  
"You're not over me?" I asked, and a cloud of cold air rushed past my lips.  
A similar cloud of visible breath appeared around Francis's face, creating a fog in front of him that made his expression more severe. His jaw set squarely, angrily as he pressed past me, back into the house without another word.  
But his previous words still clung to the air in question.  
He's not over me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay here's chapter 5!!
> 
> I know you all want to know why they broke up, and I promise you will find out eventually
> 
> Anyways thank you sm for reading, feedback is appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT THIS CAHPTER

~Starts Flashback~

"Define 'lack of intimacy,'” Darnley said with air quotes around the words. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, cupping his hands together before pressing them to his lips thoughtfully.  
"I mean there is a lack in our intimacy with each other," I said sharply, blushing under his scrutiny. It was one of the most mortifying conversations I’d ever had. "As in, it's practically non-existent at this point."  
I didn't go into detail, if for nothing else than to save myself a little bit of shattered pride, but I could count without running out of fingers how many times Francis and I had sex since the block party last summer.  
I stared out the window, winter's dead trees beginning to grow buds with the promise of spring and sighed deeply.  
"Non-existent?" he asked in disbelief, and I buried my head in my clammy hands.  
"Pretty spicy, huh?" I spoke, sarcastically.  
"Yeah- I mean, no. No, not really." He pat my knee, empathetically. "It sounds... frustrating."  
"Yeah," I grumbled.  
"You're not the first couple to go through a dry spell," he comforted. "It happens to the best of us. I mean, I can sort of relate, if you catch my drift."  
"You and Kira?" I asked with heavy doubt in my voice. Darnley nodded, face slightly flushed.  
I mean, I understood it. From the time we'd met them nearly a year ago things had seemed shaky between Kira and him, but he rarely talked about it with me, and I felt like I was always going on about Francis and my own problems. I figured they'd worked whatever problem had driven a wedge between them.  
" How do we find the spark again?" I asked, curling my legs up under my butt as I turned to face him more fully. "You think, maybe I should just surprise him? Just be standing there naked one night when he comes to bed? Or just jump in the shower with him-"  
" Well God, if that doesn't get his attention, I'm not sure what will." Darnley groaned and I smiled a little, suddenly shy. I busied myself by fiddling with the end of my braid to keep from looking at him.   
"I just want to feel attractive again."  
"Mary," Darnley said firmly, waiting for me to meet his eyes before continuing. "You are so fucking attractive."  
"Whatever," I scoffed. "You're my friend, so naturally you're obligated to say so."  
"No." He shook his head in argument. "I thought you were gorgeous from the first time I saw you. You were nothing to me, but I remember thinking your husband was a lucky bastard. If he's stupid enough to not realize what a complete stranger does, then it's his loss."  
Darnley squeezed my knee and both our eyes landed on the intimate connection. He stroked my skin through the material of my jeans slowly, sensually, moving slowly up my thigh.   
When I looked back up at him, he smiled softly.  
"Darnley," I whispered, voice quivering. "Kira is like, possibly the prettiest woman I've ever seen."  
Darnley shrugged his broad shoulders and I swallowed hard.  
"We're just friends."  
"Come on, Mary." He insisted quietly.   
It all happened fast. His body was right up against mine, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body against mine.  
"We both know this has been building up to something more for a while now."  
I hesitated, mouth hanging open before closing again in search of something to say. I was speechless, though. All I could do was stand there, staring back at him dumbly. He took my silence as a green light and moved in closer until his lips pressed to mine.  
I stiffened at the contact, but his warm lips were soft and urgent and his hand crept up the length of my leg to rest against my hip bone. I released a breath through my nose and he moaned quietly, pleased, it seemed, that I didn’t immediately reject him.   
When I jerked my head back a moment later, I felt my world shatter around me.  
"I think you should go," I whispered and to his credit, Darnley didn’t fight it.   
"We'll talk?" he pressed, only satisfied once I nodded. I stared at the floor as his footsteps disappeared downstairs to get Claire  
I wasn’t sure if there would ever be a way to describe the kiss.   
So different from Francis's lips, the ones that always left me craving more, never allowing my mind a chance to break away.  
But there was no denying that in that single ten-second kiss from Darnley, there was more passion than I'd experienced with Francis in months.  
My heartbeat quickened inside of my chest and it felt like I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs to breath. My vision fogged and I had to put my head between my legs to keep from passing out. 

I broke down in a sob.

~End of Flashback~

I must've fallen asleep, because the last thing I remembered was watching a movie with the kids, and Francis strategically sitting in the chair opposite me.  
The television was as dark as the living room was and a quilt had been draped over my middle. The light from the dining room cast shadows of light along the outskirts of the living room. The sound of quiet giggles and small voices chatting caused me to rise up with a sigh and go to inspect what was happening.  
Various art supplies, stickers and cut up pieces of paper littered the tables the kids sat around it, listening to Christmas music.  
"Mama, you’re up! Look what we're making," Henry exclaimed, holding a folded piece of red construction paper with various items glued to it. In messy little boy handwriting it read: Merry Christmas Aunt Kenna!  
I frowned in confusion as I read the words over again. I hadn't told the kids about Kenna's plans to come yet. Henry was shaking the card in front of my face, waiting for praise still. I provided it half-heartedly, rubbing his head as I locked eyes with Francis, who smiled proudly.  
"What time is Kenna getting in on Wednesday?" he asked, helping James draw a tree on the backside of his paper.  
My eyes narrowed into slits and I gripped the back of Henry's chair with force, cocking my head to the side in annoyance.  
"How did you even know Kenna's coming to visit?"  
"We talk sometimes." He shrugged absently, meeting my eyes for only a second before they flickered back down to the paper, nervously.  
"What?"  
"We. Talk," he said slower. I could feel myself starting to shake. "Just because we're div--” he stopped himself short when the kids wide eyes looked between us. “It doesn't mean Kenna and I aren't still friends, Mary."  
"You're friends?"  
"This is exactly why we didn't tell you," he grumbled under his breath and it was too much. Everything about the whole situation was more than I could handle. In my silence, he looked up at me daringly, but there wasn’t anything I could say to him in front of the kids.  
So, I did the logical, adult thing, instead.  
I stomped away.  
The house was too cramped. Even if I were to retreat to another room, lock a door, anything , he'd still be there. He was everywhere, and I just needed him gone. Right now, I just needed to be somewhere that didn't scream Francis Valois.  
I grabbed my car keys tugged on my boots before twisting the door handle open. It shut almost immediately, and Francis's strong arm was there, blocking the entrance.  
He didn't realize how angry I was. He wouldn't be standing there otherwise.  
"Move," I said deadly quiet.  
"You need to calm down."  
"You don't get to tell me what to do. What the fuck do you think you're doing, sneaking behind my back and talking with my best friend? Is this- has this been... God , Francis I am so mad. You need to move and let me go.”  
"Kenna is my Friend too, Mary," he argued. "The closest thing I have to it. I've known her her whole life, I wasn't going to just drop her..."  
"You dropped me!"  
"No," he said, holding a hand up with glassy eyes. "You and I both know that's not what happened."  
"I-" I had nothing to say. His words hung in the air, silencing the storm between us as the anger began to slowly melt from my body, replaced by the painful realization that I’d been running from for too long now.   
"You're right," I whispered. Francis’s head jerked up in shock, his crystal blue eyes wide with shock.  
I used it to push past him and slipped out the front door into the snowy night. I’d barely made it to the driveway when Francis came rushing out after me, urging me to wait.   
"It's not safe, Mary. The weather advisory they set is for the whole weekend."  
I didn't stop. Not until I was in my car with the door locked and turning the key in the ignition. Francis was still shouting at me to come back inside when I pulled out of the driveway, heading.... hell, I didn't even know where I was heading.  
Anywhere but there.

+++

I wound up in an abandoned Target parking lot.  
Besides the few stray cars, I was entirely alone with only the sound of the snowy-rain mixture smacking against the windshield for company.   
I let the wipers push it away and kept the heat running on high for a few minutes before turning the engine off and throwing my keys somewhere behind me.  
I cried in the way that left me breathless and with a stomach ache. My knuckles were sore and pale from their grip on the steering wheel and when I'd finally calmed down enough to wipe my eyes, I noticed they were numb.   
It didn't matter. Now they just matched the rest of me.   
I waited until the thought of Kenna and Francis talking all these years without telling me didn't make me want to punch a window to call up Kenna. As soon as she answered though, I lost it.  
"Merry Christmas!" she sang. "I am all packed and ready to go. I can't wait to see the little munchkins, I bet they're so much--"  
"Why didn't you tell me you and Francis kept in contact?"  
My words cut the rest of hers off. I could feel the joy evaporating through the phone line as silence passed between us. The only sign that let me know she hadn’t hung up was her low breathing.  
"So, he told you then?" She finally asked.   
"Kenna."  
"Look, I'm sorry we didn't tell you. I wanted to...we both did. It was weird to keep it from you, but--"  
"Yeah, it was weird, Kenna. There shouldn't even be a question. He’s my ex, I’m your best friend"  
"--And he’s like a brother to me,” she said through the phone line, forcibly. “Jesus, this is why we didn’t tell you, Mary. I knew you would make me choose and the honest truth is I can’t. I love you both.”   
"I understand you were close, Kenna, but Francis is not your brother. Not really.” My voice was shallow, hoarse from disuse and tired. I was quickly running out of the fight left in me.  
I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on, and leaned back against the seat with a sigh.  
“He divorced me. Not the other way around.”  
I watched the digital clock on the dash flip multiple times as silence passed between Kenna and I. A new wave of guilt washed over me each minute that passed for having sucked yet another person dry.   
But what the hell did Kenna and Francis even have to talk about? The thought drove me insane. It was obvious their contact was regular if he knew something as trivial as her coming to visit me. It had nothing to do with him. Nothing to do with his time with the kids. It was my holiday. So why?  
Did he talk to her about the divorce? Confide in her about that night?   
I never told Kenna the details, just a vague overview of what happened. Kenna was basically my sister. The last thing I wanted was to shatter the reputation she had built up of me in her mind.   
But after everything, Francis was so mad. What would’ve kept him from telling her just how horrible of a person I was? In defense of himself and his decisions. Kenna had taken the news of our divorce particularly harshly.  
For a while, the three of us were all the other ones had.   
Francis's parents divorced long before we started dating, back when we were just a boy and a girl who shared a class. Not long after, his father and half brother were in a fatal accident. It made the news for nearly a week and they closed down the main street the day of the funeral.  
After his mother found out he knocked up a sixteen year old, he lost her too.  
My dad died before I had even learned to say 'Papa' and although I had a Mom, she was pretty useless between her demanding job and the drinking problem that hit her at the worst times.  
Kenna hung out with Francis and me a lot. Before she left to start her own business in the cityl, we were all sort of a little family of our own.  
"I just didn't want to lose anyone else," she finally mumbled and I shut my eyes to catch the tears, sick of them falling down my face.  
They did anyways, and I was forced to sit back up and wipe them away as I cleared my throat.  
"Well, I had to," I sniffed, fishing in the back seat for my keys. Both my front and back windows were entirely covered with snow, now. "I didn't get a choice."  
"Come on Mary. Everyone has a choice," Kenna said, patience running thin. "If you quit being selfish, you would realize what you have right in front of your face."  
"He's leaving tomorrow. There's not much I can do."  
"Well, for starters," she said, a mischievous glint to her voice. "You could stop him."

+++

Francis had been right about the weather. Between the cold temperatures and thick snowfall, the roads were still slick under my tires. I made it about halfway down the road before I had to pull over and wait it out a little longer.  
By the time I made it back into the driveway, the porch light was on and the lights in Anne's and the boys' rooms were out.  
Through the thin curtains of the window, I saw Francis pacing the length of the living room with his hair standing on end and his jaw clenched. He paused in place when I pressed past the heavy door and his fists clenched at his sides.  
"Why didn't you answer your phone?” The measured quality of his tone sent a chill down my spine more so than if he had just yelled.   
"Driving." I stole his reply from Thursday, which didn't escape his notice as his already tense shoulders seized up more.  
"You are such a selfish brat," he claimed stalking towards me and cupping his hands around my face. He ran his thumbs over my cheeks and my skin pebbled as his fingertips ghosted over my neck.  
He continued to say things that I ignored, too focused on the way his frightened eyes searched over me as he moved my hair off the side of my shoulder and worked his hands down the length of my arms.  
His eyebrows were still firmly pressed together, lips twisted in a scowl, but I couldn't ignore the soft circles his thumb traced over my hand.  
"Did you even stop to think about how the kids might feel, watching you fly down the street? God, can you even imagine what it would do to them if something happened to you?”   
I stood in silence, never taking my eyes off of his as he continued to quietly scold me. His hands, still locked around mine, began to shake.   
"What it would do to me?" He whispered, voice cracking a little. "I try so hard not to care, but I do, damnit, Mary. I do.”  
The corners of his eyes were glassy and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to chase away the tears. He turned his head away from me, cursing in a low tone that he thought I couldn't hear.  
I swallowed heavily and pushed his hair away from his face. He glanced up at my hand in confusion, eyes wide with confusion.  
"...Why are you just standing there?" he wondered. "Are you...Mary?"  
"God, I missed you," I whispered breathlessly, and I watched his expression melt as I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him into me.  
Francis grunted in surprise as our lips met and his entire body stiffened, including the hand that was still latched to mine like a lifeline.   
His body relaxed and he leaned in to deepen the kiss with an intensity of his own.  
He pressed me back into the wall, using one hand to keep himself propped up while the other snaked around my hip and drew it closer to his. I was glad that through all of this, he doesn't try to force our lips apart, because I am certain that if he did, realization would dawn on him and the moment would be broken.  
It wasn't though. If anything, he seemed more greedy than I felt, which I hadn't thought possible. His lips were hungry, sucking and licking at mine until we were forced to break apart, both gasping for air.  
"Fuck," he whispered, followed by a soft moan that made heat rush down my center as I traced my tongue down his neck. “Mary. I never thought I'd get to do this again."  
His hands tightened around my hips and his warm breath fanned across my face.  
"I feel like I'm dreaming."  
I trailed kisses across his skin, to his ear where I licked the outer shell, causing him to quiver.  
"You're not."  
The growl he emit rumbled through our connected bodies before he bent down to lift me up in his arms, laughing as I squealed in surprise. My arms tightened around his neck as he stumbled towards the stairs, continuing to kiss me as he started up them.  
I heard the door shut behind us, and then I was pressed up against it. A rush of warmth flooded me as Francis pinned my hands above my head, grasping my wrists firmly.   
He was hard against the junction of my hip and I pressed back, desperate for some friction.   
We stayed like that for a while, kissing up against the door as our hips gyrated against one another, until finally we’d had enough. Francis grabbed hold of my hand, pulling me towards the bed and falling down onto it with me.   
We fumbled around to get comfortable, but it seemed to be enough to break the tension as we both laughed nervously.   
His fingers tickled the sides of my stomach as he pulled my shirt up higher over my head before it was quickly discarded. Immediately his hands returned to my body, fishing for the hook of my bra.  
I didn’t waste any time undressing him, either. His stomach was as smooth and taut as I remembered it being, and when I trailed my fingertips over his skin, his muscles flexed beneath the soft touch.   
He evened the playing field as he began a slow massage on my breasts, teasing and flicking my hardened nipples in his calloused fingers. It was driving me insane.   
I moaned softly--a sound that might’ve embarrassed me if I was thinking straight. But it felt too good to care and the noises continued escaping me freely as he massaged.   
“Pants,” I hissed as his tongue started to trail a path down my sternum to join his hands. Our hips were still rocking against each other, the heat even more delicious now that we were horizontal. It was too much of a tease, though. I needed to feel him inside of me.   
Francis released a held breath as I reached between our bodies to pop open the button of his jeans. They slid down awkwardly to his knees before he kicked them off completely.  
His cock slapped against his skin once freed and when I gripped it in my awaiting hand, I felt the blood pulsing through it as he throbbed with excitement.   
“Mary,” Francis strangled out, arms shaking to hold himself steady above me. I watched his teeth dig into his lower lip as I continued with long, languid strokes against his flesh.  
“Oh god, no. You can’t do that right now,” he insisted, fisting his hand around mine in order to stop me. He looked physically pained as he removed my hand from his cock, bringing it back to rest between our bodies.  
“Why not?” I asked, eyebrows pinched with confusion. In his flustered state, he could barely manage to crack a smile and my amusement grew.   
"It's just that I'm going to have a hard time lasting as it is," he rushed out. "It's been a long time. Two years, if we’re being exact."  
The realization of what he was admitting hit me and I sucked in a disbelieving breath, looking him over for any trace of a lie. He gave a small shrug, cheeks stained with color even as he averted his eyes away from mine.  
"I didn't say that so you'd look at me like a wounded puppy," he muttered, though not unkindly. "I just... there wasn't anyone I wanted to appreciate my hands, but you. You're it, Mary. It's only ever been you."  
"Francis..."  
"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to ruin the moment. I know this isn't about that, I just needed you to know that while I had the courage to say it."  
I brushed a hand over his cheek and he offered a gentle smile that I couldn’t help but press my lips against. The action, though starting soft, quickly turned more heated as he cupped my neck to hold me against him.   
"I would think about you," I whispered spontaneously when he licked the spot behind my ear. He pulled back, dark eyes focused on me as he tried to make sense of what I was telling him. “At night, I touched myself and imagined it was your hands.”   
“Fuck, Mary,” he groaned, truly in agony. I ran my fingers through his hair as his head fell into the crook of my neck. “You can’t tell me that.”   
“It always got me off,” I panted as his hips bucked into mine. Francis’s entire body trembled.  
"I can't wait any longer," he managed through gritted teeth. "Do--should I get a condom or something?"  
"--No. No Francis it's fine... just do it," I begged him. He growled low in reply, burying his hands in my skin and pressing down into me with one fluid motion that had us both crying out louder than we ought to have.   
Francis’s lips crashed against mine in an attempt to silence us both as he moved unsteadily inside of me, trying to find his rhythm.   
I felt his cock leave me slowly, every inch defined in the slow withdrawal before he pushed back in with force that had my head sliding up against the pillow. I curled my arms around the taut muscles of his back, digging my nails into his hot flesh in response to his movements.   
"Mary," he managed, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm not... I'm sorry but oh fuck, I'm gonna come..."  
I bit down on his shoulder and it seems to be his undoing as I felt him release inside of me. I looked up at his twisted face, mouth hanging open and beads of perspiration dotting his forehead as he grunted in satisfaction.  
When he finished, he collapsed down next to me, rubbing a hand over my still heaving stomach before connecting our hands together to bring them to his lips.  
"Shit. I'm sorry," he mumbled with a sheepish smile.  
"I'm just that good," I teased, flicking his shoulder as the bed shook with his laughter.  
"That you are," he muttered, voice taking on a more liquid quality as he hitched his leg back over my middle, coming up to straddle me. "But, I still need to make it up to you."  
"Hmm, how so?" I asked, feigning innocence. Already my breathing was becoming irregular as he made his way down my stomach.  
"Francis..."  
"I missed hearing my name on your lips," he admitted, brushing over the fine hairs between my thighs. "Did you moan it while you touched yourself?"  
"Yes," I whined, eyes lulling shut as his breath ghosted over my clit. He traced his fingers between my folds, teasing me for a second before letting them enter, causing us both to groan with satisfaction.   
"You feel so good, Mary," he groans. "Did I do this to you?"  
"Only you."  
"Say it again."  
"It's only you, Francis. I only ever wanted it to be you," I gasped as he started to work his way in and out of me, curling his fingers in a way that makes my eyes roll back.  
"Tell me what you'd think about,” he instructed, lowering his lips to the side of my thigh, peppering it with quick and wet kisses.  
"I-" my words cut off with his distracting ministrations, and I bit down on my lip. "Mary," he hummed, slowing to a torturous pace. "Tell me."  
"I would think about your tongue."  
"Where?"  
"Right..." He flicked the swollen tip of my clit with his tongue and my entire body jumped. "There. God, Francis don't stop... ugh."  
I felt his smile against my flesh as he continued to tease me. My hands fisted his hair, pulling at the roots with force that might’ve hurt him in different circumstances. But now, he only moaned deeply, pumping in and out of me faster as he began to suck on my clit.  
His tongue swirled in patterns that left me breathless and already I could feel my orgasm beginning to build.   
"Francis!" I gasped, and it seemed to be his ammunition as he worked harder, encouraging me with his rapid movements. When he groaned, the vibration from his lips ran through my body like an electrical bolt and my hips bucked up further into his face as I released a cry of ecstasy, tightening every muscle in my lower half around him as I finished.  
He continued to place teasing kisses against my skin until I was gasping and squirming with over stimulation.   
"Forgive me?" he mumbled against my thigh, giving it one last kiss...as if he's unable to get enough.  
I could only manage a nod in reply, unable to control any other movements of my still spasming body. He came up to rest his head against mine, and I could feel his erection against my body.  
I reached down, giving it a gentle stroke as I arched eyebrow up at Francis. He grunted, blushing a little with an apologetic shrug.   
"Like I said, it's been a while."  
"Hmmm," I mumbled, already feeling my own body warming again. Insedatable. He pressed himself further into my hand, and I reveled at the way I was unable to wrap fully around the thickest part of him. His hot breath fanned against my ear as he lowered his head to mine.  
"Round two?" he asked, hope coloring his tone.  
I smiled and it was enough for him to flip us back over on the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... chapter six
> 
> So I really hate posting sumt for some reason but here we go, anyways yay FRARY!!
> 
> Last thing is I am starting to write a new fic and in it Mary is happy with someone else (don't worry its still frary tho). Anyways, I've been thinking about it for a while and I literally don't know who it should be so I'm open to suggestions.  
> P.S.- It can't be Bash because I kind of already have like a story line for him.


	7. Chapter 7

~Starts as Flashback~

I made sure that by the time Francis walked through the door I had cleaned myself up, dinner was on the table and no one but the kids and I were there to greet him when he walked in.  
He seemed pleasantly surprised by the display, smiling without strain for the first time in what felt like forever. I returned it shakily, lowering myself down into the chair next to his at after fastening the boys into their seats.  
" Thank you, Mary," Francis said and when I chanced a glance up at him, his eyes were laced with sincerity. I reached out and curled my fingers over his before squeezing. Neither of us made a move to part, so we ended up eating dinner one handed.  
This is good, I chanted to myself. Every time my mind started to drift back to earlier, my stomach clenched and the food didn’t go down as easily. I can fix this.  
Francis's foot tapped mine under the table, climbing its way up my ankle, rubbing it sensually. When I feigned annoyance, his eyes sparked with promiscuity and he winked, causing warmth to course through me.  
I will fix this.  
I didn't make apple pie. I haven't since last summer--the memory of that day tainted now by the fight Francis and I had gotten into. Of course we'd made up--several times, before Anne came home--but all I could think about was Darnley Darnley Darnley Darnley Darnley…  
I made pudding with whipped cream and diced fruit in separate bowls to spread on top. The kids thought it was great, piling more than they really should have into their bowls before digging in with sticky fingers and faces. They squealed with delight which made Francis laugh which made me smile, so I didn’t try to stop them.  
" This is delicious," he hummed lowly, spooning a bite into his mouth. He dipped a finger into the whipped cream and placed it in the valley between my nose and lips.  
" Hey," I chuckled but he leaned forward immediately, licking up the sugary residue before placing his lips against mine.  
" Eww," Henry giggled and then he and James both let out a round of 'ewwww's,' covering their faces and turning away from us.  
I licked over my lip as Francis pulled away reluctantly, keeping his forehead pressed to mine for a moment before laughing at his sons' display.  
" Boys, mommies and daddies are supposed to kiss," he explained, already re-gripping my hand in his. "Right, Mama?"  
We're going to be okay. I will fix this.  
" That's right." I nodded in agreement.  
" Friends kiss too," Anne said, not looking up from where she sat coloring a picture of a tree. "Darnley and Mommy kissed."  
Every head in the room whipped over to Anne, oblivious of the severity of what she's just innocently admitted.  
Francis's glass slipped from his grasp and shattered against the hardwood floor. His hand seemed to grow slack within mine. My heart was beating so fast I wasn't sure whether I was in danger of throwing up or passing out.  
" Uh oh, Papa," the boys continue to say, pointing to the floor. "Uh oh."  
" I'll get the broom," I barely managed but right as I stood Francis's strong hand gripped my wrist.  
" Sit down."  
His voice was deadly, a venom within it I'd never heard. I fell back into the chair wordlessly, my hands shaking uncontrollably and bottom lip beginning to quiver.  
Anne's eyes widened with confusion, clearly sensing the shift in mood since her last comment.. I knew she was looking at me, but I couldn’t force myself to look back. I knew I was one wrong move from bursting into tears and she couldn't see…  
" Kids," Francis said, not even trying to mask his tone with brightness. "Come on, we're going over to Narcisse's house."  
Anne stood, rushing from the table to grab her shoes. The boys clapped their hands with excitement, toddling over to Anne once freed from their seats.  
I stayed at the table, head resting in one hand as Francis helped the boys fasten the Velcro of their sneakers and picked them up, one in each arm.  
" I'll be right back," he said to me and then the door slammed shut. 

~End of Flashback~

A warmth I'd forgotten I could feel filled me when I woke up the next morning, and it only took a few moments to remember why. I smiled against the comforter, pulling it up over my naked body as I turned over to face Francis in the bed.   
It was empty, but the space was still warm from his heat. When I looked back at the alarm clock beside me it blinked 7:15am.  
Too early for the kids to be awake--school was closed again. Most likely, he found his way back down on the couch, not wanting to confuse them by waking up in my room.  
Hell, I was still a bit confused by last night. There would be absolutely no way to explain it to the kids. Not yet.  
But it was good, I thought as I sat up and stretched before climbing out of bed to gather up last night's discarded clothing.  
I turned on the shower, allowing the steam to work its way up towards the ceiling before a wicked idea played out in my mind. Thoughts of a soapy Francis invaded me, spreading a heat through my body that settled between my legs.  
We had time.  
I crept downstairs, confused when I saw no signs of Francis. The quilt was still balled up on the floor...same as it had been yesterday afternoon, and the pillows were placed perfectly on the couch.  
The house didn't smell of breakfast and the kitchen was eerily quiet. Down in the guest bathroom I didn't hear water running either.  
Where was he?   
"Francis?" I called out softly, but there was no reply.  
My eyebrows furrowed as I glanced out the window, only then finding him scraping a new layer of snow and ice from his car. He didn't notice me standing on the porch until his back window was completely cleaned off. Even then it was only by accident.   
He walked up the path towards me and my heart started to beat faster when he didn't return my smile.  
"You're up early." I tried my best to act natural, but there was a shakiness in my voice that couldn't be ignored. I played it off like I was just chilly, rubbing my hands up and down my shoulders.  
"Tow guys are on their way to give me a jump.” It was the only explanation he gave, placing the shovel on the porch and walking back to his car.  
Confused, I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me--if last night had actually happened or was just some strange, realistic dream.   
"Francis," I said. He stopped, but didn't turn to face me. I jogged to meet him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him with reluctance to face me. "What's going on? I thought you might...stay. At least for breakfast."  
"You still talk to Darnley." He said flatly, and there was no question there. His expression could cut through ice.  
My heart stopped at the mention of his name. It was one we'd carefully avoided using for the past two years. Hearing it on Francis's lips, spoken with pure venom, made me nauseous.   
"What?"  
" I can't wait to see you next weekend," He said in a mockingly deep voice. "Wish it hadn't snowed, I miss you!"  
"Francis, no,” I sighed. “That's not what it is. You’re confused.”  
"Is that it?" he snapped. “I’m confused and twisting things in my mind again, right? What the fuck, Mary?”   
His harsh accusing tone did nothing to calm my own rising temper, which I felt building as my hands started to shake.  
"Why were you going through my phone?" I bit out.   
It was a valid question, but horrible timing.   
The glare on Francis’s face fell, eyes widened as he stared at me in total disbelief for a paused moment. When he shook his head, the anger returned, and he stormed back to his car.   
"I wasn't looking through anything, Mary.” His voice was low and controlled...more dangerous than ever. “Your phone was blowing up this morning at six thirty. His texts lit up your screen. I was worried that it might be Kenna.”   
"You didn't have the right to go through my phone and now you’re going to accuse me--”  
“--Accuse you?" He barked out a humorless laugh. "Accuse you? Mary, you’re admitting you’re guilty by your defensiveness! Are you...Christ, Mary are you trying to hurt me? Do you hate me that much?"  
I stopped walking and what felt like a lifetime of silence stretched between us. I felt my bottom lip quivering as I watched his hand plant firmly around his car key, eager to leave. Not likely to come back.   
"You're never going to trust me, are you?" I asked and damn there’d be time to be mad about letting him see me cry again later. I was so frustrated and hurt that the tears took nothing away from me.  
There was nothing left for him to take.  
"You... you will n-never forgive me for... for-" I cut off with a hiccup, unable to catch my breath. Francis took a step closer, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck with exasperation as he released my name on an exhale.  
"Don't touch me," I said, pulling away from his grip. "After everything I told you. After it all, you're still looking for reasons to prove me wrong. I don’t know if that will ever change, Francis. If you can't trust me then why even try?”   
"Tell me how, Mary,” he begged. “How can I--"  
"--Those messages," I cut him off, unlocking my phone and shoving it towards him to look through, "are from Darnley's daughter. Claire.”   
His eyes flickered from mine to the screen and I watched him thumb through the conversation’s history.  
“The girls are still friends. I can't tell them they can't be. This is how they keep in touch, other than play dates which, by the way, never involve Darnley and I.”  
I pointed to the message that included about twenty emoji's, most prominently the little swirl of shit with eyes that the girls spent five messages laughing about...very out-of-character from my Anne, who barely cracked a smile on a good day.  
“Claire was supposed to spend the night on Saturday. The snow canceled their plans.” His lips slackened, changing from a hard line to a deep frown, but I felt no satisfaction. “So, there you have it. Maybe if you stopped for five fucking seconds and listened you would realize that I'm not a huge asshole intent on making your life miserable.”   
His eyes softened as he finished the texts, locking the phone before handing it back to me.   
"I don't know what you want me to say." I kept my voice in as much control as possible, as I took the device from him. “I've tried sorry, but that's meaningless. So how about 'it meant nothing,' is that what you want to hear? Do you want to hear that everything I've done to try and get over you has been pointless because it never works? Everything reminds me of you, Francis. Shit. Is that what you want me to say? That I still love you?"  
He was brought up short by my confession. Even as the icy wind picked up, causing me to wince, his eyes stayed trained on me, the question hanging in the air.  
"You do?"  
The tow truck pulled up at the end of the driveway, honking loudly, as if we could’ve possibly missed it. Francis motioned for them to wait with his hand and the guys hopped out, getting their jumper cables ready.  
"I need to go say goodbye to the kids."  
"Fine," I muttered, not bothering to chase after him as he brushed past me back into the house.  
The air was too cold to stay outside for long on principle alone, so slowly, I made my way in after him and sat down on the couch with indescribable hollowness.   
Francis came bounding down the stairs a minute later, followed by a half-asleep Anne whose sadness was palpable as she clung to Francis tightly. He gave her a squeeze, careful to avoid her gaze as he leaned down to press a firm kiss to the top of her head.  
"Hey, don't cry now, come on don't cry," he soothed. "Your Aunt Kenna should be here soon, and you're going to have such a fun Christmas with her and Mama."  
I looked away, so I didn't have to meet his eyes when they undoubtedly came searching for me.  
"And in a few weekends, we'll celebrate together, too. Sounds like a plan?"  
She nodded, sniffling a little as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.   
"Go grab some breakfast, munchkin," he directed, guiding her gently towards the kitchen. "I have to talk to Mama for a minute."  
I could hear the soft sounds her feet made as she followed his instructions, but kept my head pointed away from Francis until he was right in front of me and there was no avoiding it.   
He cleared his throat, sliding his hands down into his pockets and finally, if only for the fact that I didn't want Anne to over hear, I moved closer so that we were able to whisper.  
"I just need to go," he explained on shifting feet. "I need to think and clear my mind. I just... I need some time, Mary."  
"Two years wasn't enough time for you?"  
He swallowed heavily, zipping his jacket up to his chin before turning towards the door. He stopped after a few feet and turned back with lips pressed firmly together.  
"I'll call."  
"Kay,” I muttered, feigning disinterest.   
It was only after he’d left and the house was unbearably silent that I heard the sound of running water and remembered the shower.  
I left it to continue running, uncaring.   
It was probably cold now, anyway.

~Flashback~

" I knew it!"  
A chair flew down to the ground in anger and I’d never seen him that way before. Never that angry. Never directed at me.   
His face was red and raw with emotion, lips curled up into a snarl as he shouted the words over again, as if attempting to force them into making sense: I knew it!  
" You made me think that I was crazy!" He stared up at me for the first time, eyes wide and mouth parted, like he wanted to continue but didn't know how. "You-You lied to me-"  
" -No, Francis I already told you, Darnley kissed me! I didn't ask for it. I didn't prompt him or want it, I-"  
" Like hell you didn't want it," he taunted, moving out from behind the table, closer to me. "That relationship was never one-sided, Mary."  
" You're talking out of your ass right now..."  
" Stop lying to me!" he shouted, hands balled into fists at his side. "After everything don't stand here and fucking lie. I've seen the way you look at him, Mary don't tell me you didn't want it. I bet you fucking loved it--"  
"-- Stop!"  
" Why didn't you just go ahead and fuck him while you were at it?"  
" What if I did?" I replied hotly, the words cutting off in a gasp as his hand raised so quickly, it was like a flash in the corner of my eye. I shut them, bracing for impact that never came and then felt the weight of him crumble to the floor.  
In all the years of our being together, I'd only seen Francis cry on three occasions: our wedding and his children's births. But it was different that time. I watched as his entire body shook, waves of sobs washing over him. The sounds of agony escaping his throat were ones I wouldn’t soon forget.   
Red liquid began to seep through his pants and onto the hardwood where his knees rested over the glass from earlier.   
" Francis." It comes out in a breathless rush and I fell to the ground next to him, inching closer as I pushed aside leftover shards. "No, Francis. I'm sorry. I didn't. We didn't have sex. We didn't."  
I took his cheeks in my hands, forcing him to look up at me before kissing along his sweaty forehead. He let me for a moment, hollow and lifeless beneath my touch as he wiped lingering tears from his eyes and set his jaw square.  
“You're all cut up. Let me help you clean it."  
" Get out."  
My head snapped up at his words and his eyes narrowed to tight slits, jaw clenched.  
" I-" I hesitated, sitting there, unmoving.  
" No." He interrupted, pointing to the door. "I want you out. Tonight."

~End of Flashback

Kenna coming for Christmas turned out to be a saving grace.  
Whatever leftover sadness the kids felt from Francis's departure was replaced with the joy of her arrival. It had been almost one year since her last visit.   
Neither of us bring Francis up purposely. His not being there when she arrived Monday night was answer enough to any questions she might've had. Mentions of Papa occurred over time though, whether it be about the cards he helped construct or the story behind the half-melted snowmen outside or how Anne wanted Kenna to help make his 'famous cinnamon bread.'  
"Oh, um, okay," she agreed with a forced smile, urging Anne to go gather up the ingredients while casting an apologetic look towards me.  
I shrugged it off and tightened my hold around Henry, who settled down on my lap and James, cuddled at my side, both oblivious to our silent conversation as their gaze remained transfixed on the holiday movie playing.   
I hadn’t heard from Francis since he left yesterday morning. I told myself that I couldn’t be disappointed by it, that I’d never really expected him to keep his promise of calling me. But, I’d expected him to at least call to wish the kids a Merry Christmas and urge them to get to sleep so Santa would visit. I did last year.   
He'll probably call Kenna's phone to avoid having to talk to me entirely, I couldn’t help but think, bitterly.   
"Mama?"  
"Hmm?" I looked down at Henry who stared up at me with worried eyes.  
"The Grinch isn't real, right? He can't really steal Christmas, right?"  
"Henry," I chuckled, ruffling his hair. "You've seen this movie before, you know how it ends."  
"I know," he mumbled. "But...he can't right?"  
"No," I gave him a kiss, unable to help giggling again. "He loves Christmas now."  
"Yeah!" James agreed. "Santa won't let anyone steal Christmas, Henry, because that wouldn't be fair to the kids who were good!"  
"That's right," I agreed, smiling down at him.  
"We were good, right Mama?"  
"Hmm... I don't know, do you think you were?"  
"Yes!" they both exclaimed, bursting into a fit of giggles when I started to tickle them.   
"Why are you good boys?"  
"We say please," Henry offered after a moment of thought. " And thank you."  
"And we got green lights at school all week long!" James interjected. "And green means we were outstanding!"  
I couldn't hide the fact that I had been mildly shocked when the boys came home with the certificates from school--especially one week before Christmas. There had been plenty of times where they’d both ventured into the yellow category, and a few times that I had met them at the bus stop to be greeted with puffy eyes, runny noses and a note saying one of them had gotten red.   
"You are outstanding." I smiled. With the commercial break over, their eyes dart back to the TV. “And I have no doubt that Santa will have presents for you both tomorrow."  
The doorbell rang and Kenna poked out from the kitchen, glancing between the front door and me.  
"Who's that?"  
"Probably Narcissse," I grunted, sliding Henry off my lap and stretching out my stiff back. "Wouldn't be surprised if he wandered over here to say hello."  
Kenna leaned against the door frame, wiping her hands off on an old cloth as I pulled the door open, immediately freezing when I saw Francis on the other side.   
His nose was red and snow tickled the top of his head as he blew out a cloud of a breath which stopped when he saw me.   
I turned to look back at Kenna, who couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips as she ushered Anne back into the kitchen. I slipped out onto the porch, folding my arms across my chest, refusing to let down my guard and be disappointed.   
"Forget something?" I asked with a sarcastic arched brow. "Or--"  
He cut me off, enveloping me in his arms and I was so taken back that I tried pulling away, but he only tightened his grip. I could feel his breath against my ear as it came out shakily, like he had something to say but didn’t know how to. I let him hug me, and returned the embrace for another long moment before forcing myself out of his arms and looking to him for explanation.  
"I can't do this anymore," he started, swallowing heavily. "I need you in my life, Mary. I've been going crazy since I left and I think it has everything to do with you. That’s why I act like a prick because you drive me insane in every way and I love it, Mary. I love you so much that sometimes I don't even know how to handle it."  
He brought his hands up to my cheeks, holding them in his strong hands as he brought his forehead down to touch mine.  
"I'm sorry for ruining the other night," he whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "That meant more to me...I can't explain it. And when I read those messages, I felt like I was actually going to die."  
"Well, I don't want that," I whispered back. His eyes opened with a playful expression before he released a small chuckle.  
"You didn't let me explain. You never let me explain," I said, and his lips fell a little with a knowing nod.  
"I'm sorry," he apologized again with enough genuineness to help me breathe again.  
"I should have told you, so you didn't find out that way," I admitted, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the kiss or the texts. Both, really. Referring to the latter, I added: "It just didn't seem important to share, until last weekend. I didn't think I ever stood a chance again until then."  
He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, curling his hands around my middle. I didn't pull away until a languid moment had passed.  
"So, what does this mean?" He finally asked the question that had been running through my head since he came back.   
"I don't know," I said honestly, twisting the drawstring that hung off his sweatshirt. "What does it mean?"  
He unhooked his arms from mine before taking my hands into his and nervously lowering himself down onto one knee. My eyes widened as I glanced around in the darkness and he cleared his throat.  
"Francis..."  
"Mary," he said, ignoring the urgency in my tone. "Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"  
I breathed out a sigh of relief, my shoulders hunching forward as I clasped my heart and he burst into hysterical laughter.  
"You idiot," I chuckled, smacking his chest as he rose to his feet.  
"What? The idea of marrying me again scares you that bad?"  
"Shitless," I teased and he gave me a coy smile, poking my side before pulling me into his arms. He rested his chin against my shoulder, tracing idle patterns on my back.  
"So, is that a yes to the date, though?"  
"Yeah," I smiled. "Guess it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry its taken me so long to post this I went out of town for a while.  
> Anyways, yay they are officially back together!  
> Thanks for reading


	8. Epilogue

Five Years Later

The sun was just starting to rise, but I’d been awake for hours. Maybe, I hadn’t even fallen asleep.   
It was Christmas morning and soon the house would be bustling with activity. Kids squealing with delight as they pulled presents out from under the tree. Gingerbread baking and puzzle making. Kenna and her fiancé were expected to arrive sometime this evening for more merriment and celebrating. But for now, in this moment, everything was silent.  
I reveled in the calm before the welcomed storm of excitement.  
Rolling over in bed, I inhaled deeply and stretched my limbs out with a quiet moan. My foot brushed up against a bare leg as I spread out, and before I could roll back onto my side, a strong arm slung itself over my middle.  
Francis’s head tucked itself against my shoulder; blonde hair tickling the nape of my neck and breath fanning across my bare skin. I felt it pebble with goosebumps at the contact and ran my fingers through his messy hair as I laid there.   
“You’re heavy,” I complained, voice thick from sleep when his arm tightened around my middle.   
Francis’s quiet laughter shook us both, but he made no move to dislodge himself from me.   
In the gleam of light streaming through the open curtains of the bedroom, the simple silver band around his finger sparkled. I stared at it, and the way his large palm formed around me in an almost protective embrace, and knew contentment.  
“Merry Christmas, Mary,” he whispered.  
This time, when I shifted, he moved to let me. I rolled over onto my side, pressing my bare chest to his and resting my palms flat against his skin. He accepted my tentative kiss easily, our lips brushing against each other sweetly, morning breath be damned.  
It had been five years since we grew back together. Four since we got married…again. In some ways, it felt like we’d never spent time apart. But there were other times where it felt like the day I stood up in front of him, with our children surrounding us and promising to do better, was just yesterday.   
Listen better.  
Understand better.  
Love better…  
“Merry Christmas,” I returned, right against his skin. When I trailed kisses down his jaw, to the junction of his neck, his hand on my hip tightened and an involuntary moan escaped him.   
“I think the kids are still sleeping,” I whispered, nipping at the spot that I’d just sucked.   
I could feel his eagerness to take advantage of the moment against my thigh. It was rare we had mornings where there was no rush, no driving force making us get out of bed the second our alarms rang.   
Francis fell onto his back on the mattress, guiding me to straddle him as his hands explored my naked skin. I rocked against him, separated from what I wanted by only the thin fabric of our underwear, and moaned at the sweetness of his friction.  
The sound of a squeaking floorboard stilled my movements. Francis’s lidded eyes fluttered open to inspect why I’d stopped, but I held a finger to my lips to indicate I was listening.  
When silence followed, I shrugged it off and went back to kissing him.  
Just as I was beginning to lose myself again, the distinct pattern of feet pulled me from the trance.  
“I think the kids are up.”  
“They know how to turn on a television.”  
“Francis,” I giggled, smacking his chest playfully. “It’s Christmas.”  
“I know,” he groaned, squeezing my ass. “Which is why I want my present.”  
“Oh trust me, I have big plans for you toni–” My words cut off with the sound of a knock on our bedroom door.  
I felt like a teenager, about to be caught by our parents in a compromising position as Francis and I both froze.  
“Mom? Dad?” Anne asked, knocking again.  
I jumped off of Francis, pulling the blanket up over my chest as I swung my legs off the mattress.  
“One second.”  
She waited patiently on the other side of the door while Francis and I hastily picked up discarded clothing from the floor and slipped them on in hopes of appearing casual.  
I opened the door, taken aback to see not only Anne, but James and Henry huddled in the doorway, wearing bright smiles with full hands of trays.   
Waffles, fresh fruit and enough orange juice for all of us were carefully balanced on top and I pushed the door open wider, allowing them to come in and set up their feast on top of the bed.  
“What’s all of this?” Francis asked, sitting up straighter.  
“I got the boys up early. We wanted to make breakfast this year, Papa.” Anne was quietly beaming, her long legs folded on top of the bed, pajamas too big for her lean body.   
It was hard to believe that our little Anne was thirteen years old. She sat on the bed with poise; back straight, hair tucked behind her in a long braid, lips turned up in a shy but satisfied smile.  
The boys climbed on the bed either side of Anne, asking when Kenna would be arriving and if we had to wait for her to get here before we could open up presents.  
I pushed James’s wild blonde hair back off his forehead and gave him a firm kiss.   
Our family was beautiful. It was hard to think about the time where this wasn’t my reality.   
“Let’s eat this delicious looking breakfast so it doesn’t get cold,” I suggested, curling up beside my husband. “Then we can open presents.”  
When those feelings surfaced, and the pain felt unreal, I shoved it down and tethered myself to the present.   
Sitting there all together as a family, laughing as the kids told us stories from their morning adventure, my hand slipped into Francis’s and his fingers curled around mine.  
When they found the singular diamond at the center of my wedding ring, he caressed it lovingly.   
And in that moment, I didn’t think it was possible to be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is end...
> 
> I just want to say thank you so much for reading this story all the way through and thank you for all of the feedback it means so much to me! Sorry this last chapter took me so long I've just had a couple of things that have kept me busy.
> 
> P.S.- I promise I have a new frary story in the works, it might take a while, but it is coming.
> 
> much love


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